


The Joy You Feel

by alabasterclouds



Category: Pretty Little Liars
Genre: Ageplay, Crying, Diapers, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/F, Gen, Hurt/Comfort, Infantilism, Wetting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-04-30
Updated: 2015-08-31
Packaged: 2017-12-10 00:28:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 7
Words: 29,106
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/779708
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alabasterclouds/pseuds/alabasterclouds
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>AU established infantilism world. Teenagers are infantilized (wearing diapers, using bottles, etc) until they are 16. Spencer Hastings doesn't want to grow up. She turns to Emily Fields for comfort in a world that doesn't understand her, and finds that the best friends are those who are willing to care for you at all costs. Warning: ageplay, infantilism, diapers, emotional abuse.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

"Spencer! Not again!"

Spencer Hastings looks up from the spot on the couch she's staring at. Her shoulders rise to the level of her ears, and her soft brown hair leaves tendrils around her cheeks as she winces. Not again. Not again, indeed.

She's staring at the spot to stop herself from bursting into tears. She's trying to keep her composure, because her mother's just found the extra load of laundry whirring in the machine. And Spencer's sixteen years old. She should be moving past this.

Even in Rosewood, when the average potty training age is around sixteen, Spencer's parents believe that their daughters should be ahead of the curve. Melissa, Spencer's sister, was potty trained and completely out of her baby stage by fifteen and a half. It irks them to no end that Spencer has no interest or desire to get out of hers.

To be honest, there are only a few people Spencer's age that are out of their baby stage, that Spencer knows of, anyway. One is her friend Emily. But Emily just turned seventeen, being the oldest of their group of friends, and she was always disinterested in staying long in diapers and drinking from bottles. Aria is similar – she's almost seventeen and only wears diapers at night. She doesn't even want to look at bottles. Hanna is closer to Spencer's age and also her developmental level, but even Hanna is starting to want to pick out pretty panties and clothing at the stores that don't need to be tailored to hide diapers. Spencer is the only one who seems to be comfortable just as she is.

But it's hard. Spencer's parents refused to buy her usual absorbent diapers, citing that if she feels uncomfortable, it will motivate her to get out of them sooner. This causes leaks and accidents, often at night. And now Spencer is trying to hide that she woke up to wet sheets and pajama bottoms this morning, once again, because she knows her mother is going to yell at her.

Her mother comes out of the laundry room, her perfect hair and clothing in place as usual. Spencer can't look at her mother. Her lower lip juts out despite herself, and her mother sighs in exasperation.

"We bought you that alarm clock to wake you up through the night, so that you can learn to wake up and use the toilet. You know you're supposed to be using it when you can. And yet this is the fifth load of laundry this week because you're not using the alarm, Spence. What's it going to take? Melissa was never like this. She was eager to start training herself much younger than you."

Spencer blinks, saying nothing. Two tears drop from her eyes and land on her tightly folded hands. Mrs. Hastings just makes another irritated sound.

"Crying won't change my mind on this. You're sixteen and it's high time you started acting like it. You're wasting water and time, not to mention money on these diapers. Isn't sixteen years enough?"

Spencer finally looks up at her mother, her brown eyes glittering with angry tears. "I'm just tired of you nagging at me. I'm not ready, Mom. I don't want to start trying yet. And I especially don't want to when you're pushing like this!"

"Well, if I didn't push, your natural laziness would just take over, as usual. Spencer, don't disappoint me again. We're going to have to start taking away privileges if you can't understand what's expected of you. And that means seeing your friends!" Mrs. Hastings throws up her hands and stomps upstairs, leaving Spencer to curl up on the couch and begin to cry.

Only last year, all of her friends were in her position. Everyone was comfortable, and sleepovers had them all needing bottles to fall asleep and blankets or stuffed animals to cuddle with. Everyone wore diapers, even Emily, who was already starting to move out of that stage. No one felt awkward or out of place . . . the way it should be.

And now, everyone's moving on without Spencer. While only a few people in her grade are completely clear of babyhood, everyone is talking about the latest stage they've reached, whether they've moved completely out of daytime diapers or are starting to be dry at night. No one uses a bottle at lunchtime anymore, and when Spencer pulled hers out to nurse at during a movie in class, she was snickered at by the people around her. It's hard.

Spencer unfolds herself from the couch and winces as her thinner diaper peels wetly from her skin. These are uncomfortable, but still. She just wants to be left alone.

Mrs. Hastings comes back in, her briefcase in her hand. "Spence, change before school, please. I don't want to have to sign you out so you can drive home and get a fresh pair of pants because you leaked today. Though if you're smart, you'll set the timer on your phone to remind you to use the toilet regularly today. That will help with any accidents."

Spencer sighs loudly. "I don't want to, Mom! I'm comfortable the way I am!"

Her mother just shrugs, pouring herself a cup of coffee. "Well, you may have to start footing the bill for your baby stuff, then. Your father and I just don't feel we should have to pay for it anymore. You're too old." She comes over and kisses her daughter's forehead – a dry, loveless peck.

"Be good today and think about what we've said. I'll be working from home today, so I'll be here for dinner."

Spencer starts to cry before she can stop herself, and her mother's shoulders stiffen. "Spencer."

"I just want things to go back the way they were," Spencer sniffles, and her mother sighs.

"I know. But you're a big girl, now. Think about what I said."

Spencer wipes her cheeks and tries to straighten up, and her mother smiles, a little tenderly. "That's a girl."

Watching her mother go out the door to grab some things from her office, Spencer is reminded that she only has twenty minutes til the first bell and she still needs to change and drive to school. Dashing up the stairs, she catches a glimpse of herself in the mirror. The thinner diapers are still visible under her jeans, and give her tall, angular body a slightly rounded look. Spencer likes the way she looks. No diapers would make her back end look flat as a pancake. She pouts at herself in the mirror, but is startled a moment later when her sister, Melissa, comes out of her room.

Melissa pauses on her way to the bathroom to stare at Spencer, much like a cat would stare at a mouse. "Morning, little sister," she says, emphasizing the "little". "You'd better change before you get those pretty new jeans all messy. I can tell from here you're wet."

Though Melissa's words are fine, her tone is full of barbs, and Spencer can't stop her lower lip from trembling again. Melissa rolls her eyes.

"Oh, stop with the waterworks. It doesn't work on Mom and Dad and it certainly doesn't work on me. You're way too old to be pissing your pants, and you know it. I don't know why you're fighting them on this. You're just being a big disappointment, as usual." Melissa, her hair perfect and skin perfect even before she's gotten ready for the day, bangs the bathroom door in Spencer's face and leaves her little sister in the hallway.

Spencer goes slowly into her room and takes off her jeans, stripping off the wet diaper to put on a fresh one. Maybe she should start taking more of an interest. Maybe she is a big disappointment.

Looking at herself in the mirror, she puts on her fresh diaper and pulls up her jeans, then tries a smile. It turns out as a grimace, and Spencer has to angrily wipe her cheeks free of the tears leaking from her eyes before grabbing her keys off her dresser. She'll be late for school.

She's already enough of a failure without adding that to the mix.

/~/

Emily's waiting by Spencer's locker when Spencer arrives at school. The pretty Asian-American girl is leaning casually against the door, and greets Spencer with a smile. "Hi, Spence."

"Hi," mutters Spencer, opening her locker with a wrench. She doesn't look at Emily, and it takes a cool finger under her chin to get Spencer to meet Emily's eyes.

"Rough morning?" Emily's soft voice is soothing, and Spencer nods, and then leans forward to hug her friend. Emily just seems to understand. Her parents are just as obsessed with her being the first and best at everything. Emily cuddles Spencer to her and lets her hide her face for a while, then strokes her slightly flyaway hair.

"Come on. We've got class. Don't let them ruin your day, okay?"

"They took away my usual diapers," says Spencer, shutting her locker and falling into step beside Emily. "They want me to start feeling more uncomfortable so that I'm motivated to get out of them for good."

Emily purses her lips. "My parents did that, too, but I didn't have to stay in them long." She tries to catch Spencer's gaze, but Spencer doesn't look at her. She knows that their situations are completely different. Emily wanted to be out of diapers from the time she was about fourteen.

"Chin up, okay?" Emily gives Spencer another quick hug, then goes into her math class. Spencer continues to English class, feeling a bit bereft.

Halfway through class, her phone beeps. Her mother must have programmed in the toilet alarms she'd talked about this morning. But they're right in the middle of a test . . . and anyway, Spencer's already wet. She ignores the alarm and doesn't look at her phone again until lunch.

When she pulls it out, there are five text messages, all from her mother, reminding her to try to use the toilets at school. Spencer lets out a loud and exasperated sigh and tosses her phone onto the lunch table, just as Aria and Hanna slide into the chairs.

Hanna gives Spencer a quizzical look. "Issues today, Spence?"

"My mom won't leave me alone!" Spencer flops into her chair and opens her lunch bag to take out her bottle. She just really wants some comfort, and she snuck this bottle into her bag after her mother left. She's not supposed to have bottles at school.

Aria eyes Spencer's bottle of milk. "Honey . . . no. Put that away."

Spencer refuses to respond to her words, but shoots her a look of death. Now is not the time to nag, and Aria knows it. Nevertheless, she tries to gently reason with Spencer.

"Spence, no one else has a bottle at school."

"I don't care." Spencer looks down at her bottle. "I need it."

"You don't need it." Aria's hand comes into Spencer's line of vision, and before Spencer can react, she's gently removed the bottle from her grasp. "We can put this in a glass for you if you want milk."

Spencer's mouth opens and shuts like a fish, and then she starts to cry, just as Emily comes up to the table with her lunch. Emily looks a little shocked.

"What's going on?"

"Spence brought her bottle to school again." Aria shoots Emily a knowing look, and Hanna looks sympathetically at Spencer.

"She's upset now." Hanna reaches across the table to squeeze Spencer's hand. "But she knows that no one else has bottles. She's going to get made fun of."

Emily sits beside Spencer and puts an arm around the sobbing girl. "Spence. Get yourself together, okay? People are going to wonder what's wrong."

Instead of snapping back, Spencer simply turns into Emily, who cuddles her closely. Emily looks around at the other girls.

"Honestly, it is Spencer's choice if she wants to bring a bottle to school. She knows she might get made fun of."

Aria looks uncomfortable. "We all dropped ours by the end of ninth grade."

"Yeah, but Spencer hasn't. And that's okay," Emily reminds everyone, and then plucks the bottle from Aria's other side. She strokes Spencer's hair back from her tearstained face and hands her the bottle. "If it makes her feel better, then what's the harm? She's feeling yucky today."

Hanna nods, but Aria looks uncomfortable. "I guess so." She stands up. "I think I'm going to go see if I can get a head start on studying for the chemistry test. I'll catch you girls later."

Spencer watches Aria leave, and then mutters, half under her breath, "She's embarrassed to be seen with me."

Emily shakes her head, her face concerned. "No, sweetie, she isn't. She's just . . . advancing. She'll come around."

"And I'm not. So she's embarrassed to be seen with me."

"Well, I'm advancing, and I'm not," says Hanna cheerfully, and squeezes Spencer's other hand. "Everyone's ready at different times."

"And I was ready long before any of you, and I still like hanging around you," smiles Emily, which causes Spencer to smile a little. Spencer looks down at her bottle and her lips purse a little, moving as if she's sucking on its nipple. It's an entirely unconscious move, and Emily laughs a little bit.

"If you want it, Spence, go ahead. We can move to a more private place if you're worried."

Spencer studies her bottle for a moment and then regretfully puts it away. "Aria is right. I'll wait til later, I guess."

"Well, I'm going to go to the bathroom before class," says Emily. "Hanna, are you going to come?"

"Yeah. I should get into the habit." Hanna stands up and looks at Spencer. "Spence, you coming?"

Spencer does need to change, but she shakes her head. "I'll catch up with you."

Emily looks down at her quietly. "Maybe you could come and try? You could tell your parents you did."

Spencer looks up at Emily, but then shakes her head. "No. I don't really want to. Sorry."

Emily just shrugs back, but she takes Spencer's hand as the other girl gets up, and puts her lips close to her ear. "You need to change. I know what those diapers are like and you're going to have a mess if you don't."

Spencer nods, a little impatiently, and then watches Emily and Hanna walk down the hall, away from her.

Why doesn't anyone get that she's happy the way she is?

/~/

The accident happens right at the end of school. Spencer has never been so happy to be so close to her car. She did change halfway through the afternoon, but these diapers hold basically nothing, and now her new jeans are wet. Thankfully, no one can see her. She quickly takes a spare plastic bag from the glove box and puts it on her seat before getting into the car and driving away as fast as she can.

Maybe she should buy her old brand of diapers. It'd be awkward – kids normally don't buy their diapers, their parents do – but it's got to be better than these. She turns into her driveway after the quick six-minute drive home and dashes into the house before anyone outside can see her.

The laundry from this morning goes into the dryer, and Spencer strips her wet jeans and socks right off in the laundry room, throwing them into the washer with a load of other spare towels and washcloths. Her wet diaper hangs heavily from her hips, and she grimaces as it sticks and then peels off her skin. Ew.

Turning around to go upstairs, backpack in hand, she runs smack into Melissa, who sneers.

"Ew. I told you to change more often. Now you've ruined those jeans."

"Shut up, Melissa."

Melissa blocks Spencer's way out of the laundry room, her hands on her hips. "Oh, we're too good to ask for help, now? Last week you would have come to me, all teary-eyed, that you'd had an accident and you were scared Mom and Dad would find out."

"You'll tell them anyway," says Spencer, trying to sidestep Melissa. "I really want to take a shower."

Melissa finally steps out of Spencer's way. "Yeah, you need to. Mom!" she suddenly calls, and from the office by the kitchen, Mrs. Hastings pokes her head out. Shit. She's working from home today – Spencer forgot.

"Spencer's wet. Again." Melissa sounds half-disgusted, half-triumphant, and Mrs. Hastings sighs.

"Spence, honey – what about those alarms I set for you today? You were supposed to change and try on the toilets then. We agreed."

Spencer loses it. "We didn't agree! You decided for me!"

Mrs. Hastings sighs and comes out of the office. "Come on. I'll help you get clean. You know, Spencer, I'm just not sure how to get through to you. You just seem to like being messy like this, and I can't figure out why."

Spencer, despite her inner resolve to remain calm and adult-like around her parents, screws her fists into her eyes and bursts into tears. Mrs. Hastings barely stifles an eyeroll, and Melissa snickers.

"None of you get it! None of you care – you just want to be mean for whatever reason. Look, just because Melissa was some kind of prodigy, doesn't mean I have to be. I'm not Melissa!" shouts Spencer, stamping her foot.

"You sure aren't," sniffs Melissa, looking her up and down. "I was never so disgusting. Or babyish."

"Melissa does have a point, Spencer. She tried very hard to avoid these situations," says Mrs. Hastings. "And I know you feel put-upon the majority of the time, but being dramatic doesn't help you move forward out of this stage. And that's healthy – you need to move on."

"I don't want to move on!" Spencer starts charging up the stairs, stamping her feet loudly. "I just want things to be the same as they always were. And you're pushing me too hard. I'm not ready!"

"Oh, shut up," sneers Melissa. "You've been ready probably for a year. You're a Hastings, and we're not behind in anything. You're just lazy."

"I don't know why you're both attacking me," sniffles Spencer. "I don't know why you're being so mean."

"Because being nice does nothing, Spence!" Melissa climbs a few stairs to look her sister better in the eye. "We've coddled you and cuddled you and made sure you felt loved and cared for and I'm STILL dealing with my friends at college making fun of my baby sister who never wants to stop being a baby. You need a wake-up call, and we're sick of it!"

For the first time, Mrs. Hastings steps in. "Melissa. Don't be so harsh."

Spencer doesn't wait to see if Melissa will obey their mother; she simply runs upstairs and grabs her phone out of her backpack. Without even thinking, she scrolls through her contacts until she finds the one she wants – Emily.

"SOS," she texts, tears falling down her cheeks. "Come quick."

/~/

Emily is doing homework on her bed when she hears her phone chirp. Curiously, she rolls over to look at it, expecting Paige or Toby to be texting her, but feeling a faint jolt of surprise when it's Spencer's name that appears on the screen.

Emily's mouth drops open when she sees the text. "SOS. Come quick."

Immediately, she shoves her phone in her pocket and gets up to run downstairs lightly. "Mom, I'm going to Spencer's for a bit," she calls, and her mother nods from the kitchen distractedly.

"Okay. Call if you're going to miss dinner."

In another moment, Emily is at Spencer's back door. No one's there waiting to open it, but Spencer waves from her bedroom window, right above on the next floor, so Emily lets herself in and sneaks up the stairs. Luckily, there's no one in Spencer's living room to see her.

Spencer is standing by her window, her long, thin legs pimpled with goosebumps. She's still dressed in the same wet diaper she'd been wearing when she got home from school, and her face is tearstained. When she sees Emily, she bursts into tears again.

Emily's face creases in sympathy. "Spence. What happened?" She holds out her arms to her friend, and Spencer buries her wet face in Emily's shoulder.

"I had an accident and Mom and Melissa ganged up on me," she sniffles. "I just needed someone who would understand. Not judge. And I guess I needed help to clean up."

Emily holds Spencer off at arm's length and wrinkles her nose. "Okay. You take a shower and I'll get some fresh clothes. Are you sure your mother got rid of all the regular diapers?"

"I don't know. She could have saved some, I guess," shrugs Spencer. "I mean, I'll need them if I get sick or something. She's not going to want to clean up after that."

"No," agrees Emily, trying not to feel awkward at discussing this intimately with her friend. "I'll poke around. I assume everyone's out?"

"My mom is home, but Melissa went out. My mom's on the phone. She won't come upstairs."

Emily nods and Spencer disappears into the bathroom that adjoins hers and Melissa's rooms. Emily hears the water turn on and she sneaks down the hall to the Hasting parents' bedroom, zeroing in on the huge walk-in closet.

She can hear Mrs. Hastings talking on the phone downstairs, and she keeps an ear out as she slowly opens the door and peeks inside. So far, nothing. There are a bunch of clothes, a ton of shoes, and a bunch of bags that could hold anything. Emily isn't sure she wants to poke around in each and every one of Mrs. Hastings' clothes bags, so she quickly backs out of the closet – but not before she sees the white packaging of Spencer's usual diapers behind a bag from Prada. Jackpot.

Stealing a couple of diapers, she hurries back down the hall to Spencer's room and finds the girl sitting on her bed, wrapped in a towel.

"Did you find any?"

"In your mom's closet," says Emily, handing Spencer one of the regular diapers. "I think you'll feel better now."

Spencer looks as if she'd like to ask Emily to help her get dressed, but Emily and Spencer don't have that kind of relationship, and Emily is quite weirded out. She turns her back while Spencer gets dressed in her thicker diaper, a pair of grey sweat pants, and a soft grey long-sleeved T-shirt with hearts on it. Emily then sits behind Spencer and French-braids her hair.

"Feel better?" Emily asks Spencer gently, rubbing her shoulders, and Spencer doesn't react for a moment before starting to cry again, rubbing tired fists into her eyes.

"I really want my bottle," she whimpers, and Emily nods. Spencer's first line of defence for comfort is her bottle, and she hasn't had one all day.

"Well, how about your paci?" asks Emily, picking up Spencer's pacifier from her bedside table. "That might make you feel better."

Spencer shakes her head. "No, it's not the same." She settles back against Emily for a moment, and Emily kisses the top of Spencer's sweet-smelling hair.

"Well, did you drink the one you had in your lunch today?"

Spencer shakes her head. "But it'll be all yucky. It's been in my warm bag all day, not refrigerated." She turns around and then gives Emily a longing look, and Emily sighs.

"Spence. Your mom is right downstairs. She doesn't even know I'm here."

"She won't know! Please, Em? I really need it. I had a hard day." Spencer's voice breaks on the last words, and her lower lip begins to tremble again. Emily rubs Spencer's shoulders again.

"Well, we can sit up here and maybe watch a movie, or I'll read to you. And you can have your paci, and we can snuggle under your blanket. How about that?"

Spencer shakes her head, her chin quivering now. "Please, Emily?"

Emily sighs in exasperation, but she squeezes her friend's shoulder. "You're a real pain, you know that?" But she smiles at Spencer, who manages to wipe her eyes enough to manage to smile back.

This is much trickier than sneaking into Spencer's parents' room. Mrs. Hastings' office door is ajar, and she's talking fairly loudly on the phone, but the fridge is right next to the office, and the door squeaks. Emily moves as softly as she can, but the glass bottle makes a clinking noise on the counter, and she feels like the milk pouring into the bottle is as loud as Niagara Falls.

She doesn't dare to warm it up – instead, she dashes up the stairs, screwing the top of the bottle tightly onto it, and bursts back into Spencer's room, breathing hard.

"Whew. I'm not doing that again, Spence."

Spencer smiles sweetly. "Thank you, Emily." She takes the bottle and begins to suck happily, but her face changes and she takes it out of her mouth, looking affronted.

"It's cold!"

"Of course it's cold! I wasn't going to stand there for two minutes while the microwave warmed it up! Come on, Spencer."

Spencer's lower lip is trembling again, and Emily feels herself start to get exasperated. "I can't warm it up, sweetie. You know that. The microwave is too loud!"

"Can't you warm it up in the bathroom? Just run it under the tap," suggests Spencer in a small voice, and Emily's face changes. That's not that bad of a request.

She wonders why she's giving into Spencer so much as she turns on the hot water tap. As the bathroom starts to steam up, Emily fills Spencer's water tumbler up with hot water and lets the bottle sit in it for a few minutes, thinking.

Maybe it's because she understands how Spencer feels. She's not ready to be pushed into adulthood, but she feels a lot of pressure to do so. Her parents are pushing her way too hard. It reminds Emily of her own parents. The difference was, she was ready to be pushed, and within a few months, was completely past the baby stage Spencer is hanging onto so tightly.

When the bottle is warm to the touch, Emily comes out of the bathroom to find Spencer curled up under her favourite blanket, sucking her thumb. Emily makes a sweet and silly moue with her mouth at Spencer.

"Don't do that. Here. I've got your bottle."

Sitting beside Spencer, she gently pulls Spencer's thumb out of her mouth and hands her the bottle. Spencer smiles around the nipple and begins to suck raptly at it, but after a few sucks, she stops and looks a bit shy.

Emily, who's settled comfortably back against the cushions on Spencer's bed, looks over at her questioningly. "What's wrong?"

"Uh . . ." Spencer just trails off. She twists her warm bottle in her hands, and then Emily knows what she wants. Spencer loves to be cuddled, but she rarely asks for it, being too shy, and having been rebuffed by her parents so many times.

"Come here." Emily smiles and then rearranges herself and some pillows on the bed. Like a fawn, Spencer arranges all of her long limbs to settle comfortably on Emily's lap, under her favourite blanket, her head cradled on Emily's right arm and her body across Emily's crossed legs.

Emily watches Spencer's eyes close as she sucks at her bottle, the vessel slipping from her fingers as she relaxes, and then decides to hold it for her. Almost unbidden, as soon as the bottle is out of her hands, Spencer fastens her fingers around the edge of Emily's cardigan and sighs in contentment, nursing gently at her bottle and snuggling into Emily.

Emily can almost see why Spencer wants to stay in her baby stage. This is so sweet.

They sit like that for a while, Emily reading a book on Spencer's bedside table and Spencer sucking at her bottle with her eyes closed. Just as she finishes her bottle, Spencer's dark eyes open to find Emily's.

"What's up, Spence?" Emily asks, smoothing a tendril of hair from Spencer's forehead.

"Em . . . don't tell any of the other girls about this, okay? They're just not going to understand."

Emily looks surprised. It hadn't occurred to her to tell the other girls anything. But Spencer looks worried, and now her hand on Emily's sweater is clenched. Emily gently covers Spencer's fist with her own.

"Relax, okay? I'm not going to tell anyone anything. It's between us for now." She leans down and brushes Spencer's forehead with her lips, and Spencer turns and snuggles more into Emily.

"Okay."


	2. Chapter 2

Spencer sighs and kicks her legs impatiently, scrunching down from her sitting position on her bed.

"Emily, I am so not in the mood for a sleepover with the girls."

Emily's soothing voice comes over the phone. "I know. But you've been withdrawn lately and they've noticed. I'm sure Aria feels bad for teasing you the other day at lunch."

"I'm sure she doesn't," retorts Spencer. "She still looks at me weird when I sit down with you guys."

"And that's why you've been eating lunch alone?" Emily's voice sounds disappointed, and Spencer feels a stab of guilt. "I've missed you at lunch, and Hanna's been asking about you."

Spencer frowns and studies her hands. "Well, I've been busy. And avoiding my parents. And . . . lots of other stuff. Homework. That kind of thing."

"Spence."

"I just don't want to constantly be judged, that's all," mutters Spencer. "I'm not ready and I'm not at the stage you guys are. I just . . . want to be left alone about it."

"So what if the girls all agreed to leave you alone? You know I certainly don't care if you want to drink from bottles or still wear diapers, Spence. I thought I'd made that fairly clear." Emily now sounds a little hurt, and Spencer feels more than just a stab of guilt this time.

"No, Em. I'm really . . . I'm grateful for, uh, the other night. I am." Spencer twists the edge of her blanket through her fingers and feels her cheeks flushing red. "You were there when no one else was. I can't help but be grateful for that."

Emily sighs. "Well, then you know that I'm not going to let them be mean to you. If anyone says anything, I'll be right there, okay? I think it'll be good for you to socialize again, Spence. You know how crazy you get, living inside your own head for too long."

Spencer grins despite herself. "Yeah, yeah."

"Okay. So we'll come over on Saturday night. You said your parents were out of town with Melissa this weekend."

"Yeah, some kind of college thing she's doing. They agreed to go with her and watch her present her latest paper or whatever. I wasn't paying that much attention."

"You never do when it comes to Melissa," teases Emily, and Spencer makes a face.

"I do pay attention, most of the time. She's just been mean lately. I haven't really felt much like hanging around her, only to be teased and twitted constantly."

"I know," says Emily, her voice soft, and Spencer feels herself relaxing. Emily just has that effect on her . . . and it's nice.

"Okay, Saturday it is. I'll expect you all around 7. And I guess I'll sit with you guys at lunch tomorrow . . . I guess."

"Well, if you want to bring your bottle to school, then do it. If anyone says anything, I'll take care of them."

Spencer laughs at the idea of Emily kicking anyone's ass, and Emily laughs with her. "Don't think I won't!"

"Oh, oh, I believe you," assures Spencer, and Emily laughs again.

"Talk to you soon."

After Spencer hangs up with Emily, she looks down at the homework she's doing and makes a face. She's getting hungry, and anyway, she's been doing homework for three straight hours. Time for a break.

Spencer wanders down the stairs and almost feels like going right back up when she sees her mother and father leaning over the counter, talking to each other earnestly. But her dad catches sight of Spencer on the stairs and beckons to her.

"Come on down, champ. We're about to decide what to order for dinner."

"Oh . . . I wasn't that hungry," lies Spencer, and turns to go back upstairs, but her father's voice pulls her back.

"Spencer. Come here."

Spencer unwillingly drags her feet back down the stairs and towards her parents, both of whom are looking concerned. Mr. Hastings takes her hand when she comes to stand beside him and for a split second, Spencer wants him to hug her tight like he used to when she was little.

He doesn't, however.

"Spence, we need to talk," says her mother, scrutinizing Spencer like an eagle would watch its prey. "I was in the closet the other day, packing for this weekend, and I noticed that a few things were moved. I also noticed that the bag of diapers that was in there was out of place, and that there were diapers taken out. Can you explain yourself, please?"

Spencer looks at the floor. No matter what she does, she never gets away with it. "I was in there looking for a pair of pants the housekeeper mislaid and found the package. I took a few out, because I don't like waking up wet at night," she says, going for an honest, direct tone, and leaving Emily out of it.

"But you're supposed to be using the diapers we bought you," says her father, looking disapproving. "You're not supposed to enjoy the process, Spencer. It's supposed to get you ready to train."

Spencer looks up at her father, her eyes pleading. "Dad, I'm not ready to do that yet. And the other diapers cut down on the mess, which Mom hates anyway," she says, looking at her mother pointedly.

"Of course I hate the mess," says Mrs. Hastings reasonably. "It means you're not trying."

"No, I'm not trying!" Spencer's voice begins to rise in volume, and Mr. Hastings holds up a hand for silence. After a second, Spencer continues in a lower, more reasonable tone.

"I'm not trying because I'm. Not. Ready." Spencer bites off each word, her cheeks flushing red with frustration. "I wish you guys would LISTEN to me instead of assuming you know what my motives are or my feelings about the matter!"

"Oh, you've made your feelings quite clear, young lady. And I think being as you're resisting so much, losing something that ties you to this . . . lifestyle . . . might just wake you up to the importance of this." Her mother opens the cupboard and starts pulling out Spencer's bottles. "I think it's time to get rid of these, don't you?"

Spencer's mouth drops open and she just stares in horrified silence for a moment as her mother piles the many glass bottles on the counter. Spencer's father ruffles her hair.

"That's better. It's not so bad, is it? You mostly drink from glasses now anyway."

In response, Spencer begins to cry, and her mother turns to her, her face a little repentant. "Oh, Spence. You know this is a necessary step."

"But I like them," whimpers Spencer. "They make me happy."

"I know, sweetie. You'll find other things to make you happy." Mrs. Hastings finishes putting all of Spencer's bottles into a plastic bag and then leaves the room with it. Spencer covers her eyes with her fists and sobs.

Mr. Hastings takes his daughter by the elbow and leads her to the couch, where he offers her a Kleenex from the box on the side table. Spencer takes it and scrubs her face, fisting the tissue up and glaring at her father.

"I suppose you're both happy," she bites off, and he just sighs.

"No. I don't like seeing you this way. Your mother doesn't either. But you know this has to happen, champ. You're a big girl now and it's time to start moving on. We wouldn't be good parents if we didn't help you take these steps, even if they hurt."

"Who's been talking at the club, Dad?" Spencer widens her dark eyes and stares him directly in the face. "Who's been pressuring you about me?"

She knows she's hit her mark when Mr. Hastings looks uncomfortable. Spencer leans forward, her eyes glittering with unshed tears, and asks again.

"Who's been asking about me? How do they even know what stage I'm in?"

Mr. Hastings sighs. "Well, Spencer, you haven't exactly been discreet about this, have you? They can tell when you suck your thumb or need a bottle. Come on, sweetie, it's pretty obvious you're . . . not really trying."

"So this is about saving face? Of course it is," Spencer answers her own question. "It's not about me at all. It never is. It's about being the perfect Hastings family."

"Spencer . . ."

"Dad, I've told you and told you how I feel and you don't care. You and Mom both don't care. You don't even care that Melissa is constantly mean to me about this. It's all about me being a failure, again."

Spencer stands up and goes up the stairs, leaving her father sitting on the couch, alone.

"I hope you're happy," she says, her voice wobbling. "You've taken away the diapers. You've taken the bottles. I don't know what you'll take next, but it doesn't matter, does it? It only matters that I appear to be moving ahead, no matter if I'm ready or not."

She runs up to her room and closes the door, bursting into tears and falling facedown onto her bed. The only person who seems to understand is Emily, and even Emily doesn't completely get how Spencer feels.

After crying for a while, Spencer feels wet and in need of a change. She creeps out of her room and sneaks down the hall to her parents' room. She's run out of the good absorbent diapers, and she wants to get more before her mother gets rid of the package altogether.

But when she gets into the huge walk-in closet, the package is gone. Spencer sinks down onto her knees and begins to cry again. Why is everything she loves and needs being taken away?

She sits on the floor of her mother's closet for a little while, and then hears footsteps behind her, so she scrambles to her feet, grimacing at the wetness of her diaper peeling away from her skin. She turns and comes face-to-face with her mother, who holds out three of Spencer's old diapers to her.

"I know this is hard, sweetie. Here. These are the last of them. After these, no more, okay?"

Spencer nods and takes them, her chest hitching from so much crying, and her mom gives her an awkward hug. Spencer's parents aren't demonstrative, and Spencer doesn't really know how to accept this sort of affection from her mother. But after a moment, she melts into her mother's arms, and Mrs. Hastings strokes her hair.

"I know you don't want to be alone this weekend. Why don't you come with us?"

Spencer wipes her eyes and tries to smile, pulling back from her mom. "Oh, the girls are going to come over on Saturday night. I won't be alone for long."

Mrs. Hastings smiles, a little relieved. "Well, that's nice. I'm glad, sweetie."

Spencer smiles and her mother strokes her hair. "Why don't you go and change and we'll get some dinner? I know you're partly cranky because you're hungry. It's been a long time since you got home from school."

Spencer frowns a bit, but she nods anyway. "Okay." Anything to keep the peace at this point.

As she goes back to her room to change, she notices a slight diaper rash in the mirror and wrinkles her nose. She needs to change those Pull-Ups much more often if this is happening. Ugh. She's never worried about this on her own before – up until a few months ago, her mother was changing her regularly, or the nanny/housekeeper was.

Once she's dry, Spencer washes her face and hands and sets her expression before going downstairs. She isn't going to let her parents upset her anymore – she vows it.

/~/

On Saturday, Spencer moves her furniture to the walls of her room, creating a big space for her friends to put down their sleeping bags. She's actually sort of happy that this is happening – she has missed hanging around her friends, and despite the judging, she's happy that they're going to spend time with her.

Emily is the first to arrive, and she hugs Spencer closely. "I've been worried about you," says Emily, smiling at Spencer sweetly. "I know it's been a rough couple of days."

"Well, my parents aren't budging," says Spencer dryly, leading the way upstairs. "I don't think they ever will. But whatever."

"I just can't believe they took all your bottles away. That's so mean."

"Yeah, it was mean," says Spencer, looking a bit sad. "But I still had one in my lunch, so. They don't know about that one." Spencer looks down at Emily and winks, and Emily laughs.

"You are resourceful!"

"Always," says Spencer, and then gestures to the floor of her room. "Spread out anywhere. You're first, so you have first choice!"

Emily places her sleeping bag right next to Spencer's bed. "Just in case," she says lightly, and Spencer flushes a dull red. This is the second time Emily's alluded to what happened three nights ago, and Spencer doesn't know how to sort through her feelings about it at all.

The thing is, she wishes Emily were there all the time. And she enjoyed Emily's gentle care more than she could say . . . or wants to admit. But Emily keeps bringing it up, and it's uncomfortable. Spencer certainly hopes nothing happens to alert the rest of the girls to the new twist in her relationship with Emily.

By early evening, all the girls are enjoying Chinese food around Spencer's counter and laughing. Aria looks amazing, perched up on Spencer's counter, showing off her new leggings and boots. Hanna is eating her food with relish, telling everyone sheepishly that she's been trying to lose weight to afford a special dress at her favourite store. Emily is simply quiet and watchful. Several times, as Spencer goes back and forth from the fridge to the counter, getting everyone drinks, she catches Emily's eyes on her.

It's more than a little strange. It's getting oddly uncomfortable.

Spencer pulls out four glasses and pours everyone their drink of choice. Aria leans down from the counter.

"So, you finally gave up bottles, Spence? I don't think I've seen you drink from a glass before." Aria's voice is mild, but there's a slight bite behind her words, and Spencer frowns.

"My mom got rid of them," she says lightly, and picks up her glass, clinking it against Hanna's. "Cheers!"

Aria joins in the toast, but then presses further. "Why did she get rid of them?"

Spencer shrugs, feigning disinterest. "I guess she thought it was time?"

"Oh, you weren't using them anymore?"

Emily interjects at this point. "Let's watch a movie when we're done. I bet there's some good stuff on Netflix we haven't seen yet."

Spencer shoots her a grateful look and digs into her chicken fried rice. "I agree!"

Hanna smiles. "I know what we could watch. I saw Spiceworld on Netflix the other night!"

Aria forgets about Spencer and turns towards Hanna with a smile. "That'd be awesome!"

Spencer smiles at Hanna, too, but feels Emily's hand squeeze hers under the table. She turns to Emily, trying to be discreet, and meets the other girl's dark eyes.

Emily has her back tonight.

/~/

The real truth of who is in what stage really comes out when the girls start getting ready for bed. Hanna is wearing the same type of diapers that Spencer's parents want to get rid of, and Spencer feels a stab of jealousy at how comfortable Hanna looks in her baby doll pajamas, her thick diaper visible under them. She's also got a pacifier and a teddy bear she's brought from home. The adorable blonde girl snuggles in her sleeping bag, sucking on her paci, and Spencer can't stand watching her so she turns towards Aria, who she expects is going to brag about being completely free of any babyish stuff.

Sure enough, Aria isn't wearing any type of protection. "I don't need it anymore," she says airily. "I started waking up dry about three weeks ago. And about time, too. What a waste of diapers." She's wearing plaid pajama pants and a black tank top, and is engaged in brushing out her long dark hair in slow, methodical strokes. "I'm definitely glad to be done with all that."

"And no accidents since?" asks Emily, a slight edge to her voice, as she comes out of the bathroom dressed in a light blue T-shirt and striped cotton pajama pants. She keeps her eyes on Aria as she joins Spencer on the bed.

"Nope. I guess I've gotten lucky." Aria fixes Spencer with a wide-eyed expression. "What about you, Spence? Any closer to getting rid of the diapers?"

Spencer blushes. She's wearing one of the last absorbent diapers that her mother gave her and a long-sleeved purple pajama shirt with purple plaid PJ pants. She's cross legged on her bed, really wishing that she could suck on her pacifier, or better yet, her bottle, but knowing Aria would make a comment about it.

Spencer also feels fairly annoyed that Hanna gets a free pass from Aria's pointed comments. In fact, Hanna's nearly asleep.

Spencer just shrugs at Aria. "Not really, nope."

"I'm surprised. Your mom must be breathing down your neck about it." Aria swings her legs into her sleeping bag and arranges a pillow so that she's leaning against Spencer's dresser. "I'd be really pissed if my parents just kept riding me."

"It's not pleasant, no," says Spencer, picking up the remote control for her bedroom TV. "What movie should we watch to go to bed with?"

Hanna speaks up sleepily from her spot on the floor. "Something nice. I don't want nightmares."

Aria scoffs then, and Emily raises her head sharply. "Oh, you and Spencer are such . . . babies still. What, should we put on some Disney film?"

"If everyone's fine with it, why not?" Emily's voice is definitely sharp now, and Aria looks a little taken aback.

"Sorry, Em, didn't know I hit a sore spot."

"I'm just a bit tired of you always making comments about the other girls, namely Spencer, not being at our level, Aria. Come on. Surely it doesn't matter in the long run."

Aria shrugs. "It just is a little weird. That's all. Like Hanna I can understand, because she's at least trying. But Spencer doesn't even try."

"So who cares if she doesn't?" Emily's eyes are flashing dangerously now, and Spencer puts a calming hand on her arm.

"Em, come on. Let's not do this tonight."

Aria wheels around on Spencer. "Because the less we talk about it, the more you can live in your own little world, Spence? Where all this stuff is okay?"

Spencer's lower lip trembles. Aria sounds exactly like Melissa. "What does it matter to you?"

"Just that I'm tired of being in the group with the last baby in high school, that's all. It's hard to keep explaining it away, Spencer. I'm just saying."

Emily puts a protective arm around Spencer. "If you don't like it," she says, her voice angry now, "then I'm sure you can leave. I'm sure Spencer doesn't need you doing this, too. Not when her family never lets up."

Spencer cuddles into Emily despite herself, and Aria takes it in, her lip curling. "Ah, okay. I see. You're her protector or something, are you? I'll lay off." She puts up her hands in mock-surrender and glances over at Hanna, who is watching the whole thing with wide eyes.

"Relax, Hanna. They're right. I should lay off." Aria lies down in her sleeping bag and faces the dresser, away from the girls. Hanna shrugs and turns over, closing her eyes again.

Emily smiles at Spencer. "Put on the Lion King. That sounds nice."

Once the movie is running, Emily moves to the floor and curls up in her sleeping bag. Spencer finds it very endearing that she still snuggles with a threadbare blanket to get to sleep. Grown-up Emily still needs her comforts.

Spencer curls up in her bed and picks up her pacifier from her bedside table. After carefully checking to see that Aria isn't watching her, she slips it into her mouth and begins to suck blissfully. This is when she feels most comfortable and relaxed. Snuggling down into the warmth from her pajamas and diaper, she quickly drifts to sleep, having no trouble falling asleep tonight. She feels warm and safe.

Later on in the night, Spencer wakes up. She hears a low sobbing, and raises her head out of curiosity to see what's going on. Everyone appears to be asleep. Emily is on her side, her hands curled under her chin, eyes tightly closed. Hanna is on her stomach, her blonde hair covering her face, her pacifier lying beside her on the floor. Spencer smiles a little at that, and then feels around for hers, which has fallen under the covers.

Aria appears to be asleep, but after a moment, Spencer notices that she actually isn't. She's still facing the dresser, but her shoulders are shaking and in another minute, she's sitting up in her sleeping bag, casting a frightened look around the room. When her eyes meet Spencer's, her face crumples again.

"Aria. What's wrong?" Spencer whispers, trying not to wake Emily, directly beside the bed. "Did you have a bad dream or something?"

"No . . . no. Just go back to sleep, Spence."

Spencer looks down at her skeptically. "Yeah, no. What's going on?"

Aria doesn't answer, and after a moment, Spencer just shrugs. "It's okay, you know. You can tell me. Maybe I can even help."

"I don't want to tell you," whispers Aria, and then Spencer has a sudden idea what could be wrong. The way Aria is sitting . . . the way she keeps shifting . . .

"Did you have an accident?" Spencer tries to keep her voice gentle, but Aria starts to whimper again, and this time, Emily opens her eyes, and after a few seconds, sits up.

"What's going on?" Emily's voice is blurred with sleep, and Spencer feels slightly bad that Emily is awake. She shoots a look over at Hanna, but Hanna is fast asleep, even snoring a little bit.

"Aria . . ." Spencer trails off at Aria's glare, and Emily looks confused.

"Aria what?"

"Nothing!" insists Aria, pulling her sleeping bag up around herself. "Nothing. Go back to sleep, Emily."

Emily stares in confusion at Aria for a moment before realization dawns on her face. "Oh. OH. I see. Aria . . ."

"Don't say it," warns Aria, shifting her seat uncomfortably. "Everything's fine. It's not what you think."

Emily looks suddenly sly. "I thought you said that this stuff didn't happen to you anymore."

Aria looks at Emily in desperation and then brings her fists up to her eyes, sniffling, her lower lip trembling uncontrollably. "It didn't. It hasn't. Not til tonight."

"So I guess you still need some kind of protection, huh?" Emily crawls out of her sleeping bag to kneel beside Aria, her voice matter-of-fact and with more than a slight edge to it. "I guess you're not totally out of the baby stage after all."

Spencer frowns. This isn't like Emily. "Em, lay off. She had an accident. It could happen to anyone."

Aria shoots a look bordering on hatred at Spencer. "Oh, yeah, that's easy for you to say, you who doesn't ever want to get out of diapers." Aria mops her face with the edge of her sleeping bag and looks upset, and Emily glares at Aria.

"Don't take it out on Spencer. It's not her fault you wet the bed."

"It's no one's fault," snaps Spencer, getting tired of the constant sniping between the two girls. "Let's just get Aria cleaned up and get back to sleep. It's the middle of the night."

Emily sighs and looks resigned. She turns to Aria. "Well, since your bed is soaked, you can sleep in mine. I'll sleep with Spencer."

"And Aria, there's a spare pair of pajama pants in the upper right drawer. They're too short for me, but they should fit you. And you can take one of my Pull-Ups, as well," adds Spencer.

"I'm not wearing those," scoffs Aria, but one look from Emily stops her cold.

"I don't think so. You're not pulling that crap with us. You just soaked your bed – you're wearing one, especially if you're sleeping in MY sleeping bag," says Emily sternly.

Aria just looks upset and taking the pants out of the drawer, she goes to the bathroom to change. Emily turns to Spencer and giggles in a low voice.

"Serves her right. She's been riding you for the past week. It's time she got some of her own back."

Spencer just looks uncomfortable. "She hasn't been nice, Em, but that's upsetting. She really thought she was past all that."

Emily looks thoughtful for a moment, but her annoyed expression returns. "Well, hopefully it'll stop her from being mean to you again for a little while. Definitely Murphy's Law!"

Spencer has to laugh a bit at that. "That's true."

Aria comes back into Spencer's room, looking a little tentative as she makes her way to Emily's sleeping bag. Her lower lip is still trembling, and finally Spencer holds out her arms.

"Why don't you come up here for a second?"

Aria looks as if she'd like to refuse, but after a minute, she climbs up onto the bed with Spencer and Emily and Spencer gives her a warm hug.

"It's okay. We're not going to tell anyone. Don't worry."

Aria curls up into Spencer's arms for a moment and looks down at her thumb, which is twiddling slightly in her lap. Emily leans forward and pulls out a pacifier from a package in Spencer's drawer and hands it to Aria.

"Here."

Aria looks at both Spencer and Emily distrustfully, and Spencer gently laughs a little bit. "It won't bite you, Aria."

After a moment, Aria puts it in her mouth and begins to suck on it. Her eyes start to close as she cuddles against the girls, but then they fly open and she takes the pacifier out.

"I can't get back into this habit. I've been doing so well."

Emily shrugs. "Suit yourself."

Aria climbs back down and climbs into Emily's sleeping bag, turning away from the girls and refusing to say another word. Spencer looks slightly hurt, but after a moment, she settles down in bed and waits for Emily to climb under the covers.

Now that it's just the two of them, things aren't awkward anymore. Emily pulls Spencer close to her and cuddles her for a moment, and Spencer feels herself melting back into her comfortable baby stage. She starts to suck her thumb and Emily smiles at her sweetly, pulling Spencer's thumb from her mouth.

"Don't do that, silly. How much did your parents pay for those teeth to be straightened?"

Spencer makes a face and pulls her pacifier from her bedside table. The one Aria used, Emily tosses onto the other table, furthest from the girls.

Spencer puts her paci in her mouth and sucks on it peacefully, her eyes closing as she snuggles against Emily's shoulder. Emily smells sweet, and Spencer feels comforted by her friend's slow, steady heartbeat.

She falls asleep quickly without thinking to roll away from Emily.

In the morning, Hanna doesn't ask why Aria is in Emily's sleeping bag and Emily is in Spencer's bed. She simply gets up and starts talking about breakfast.

"Maybe eggs or something. Spence, do you have bacon?"

Spencer yawns and stretches out her long legs, noticing that Emily is lying as close to the other side of the big bed as possible.

"I don't know, Hanna. We'll go look. Probably. The housekeeper went grocery shopping on Thursday."

Hanna clutches herself. "I'm wet. I think I want to take a shower first."

Emily rolls over and studies Spencer. "I know someone else who might want a chance to clean up a bit after last night."

Aria, who has been quietly sitting on Emily's sleeping bag brushing her hair, shoots an alarmed look up at Emily, and Spencer pokes Emily and shoots her a look. Emily falls quiet.

"Who?" asks Hanna, getting up and grimacing. "Ooh, my back is stiff."

"Me," says Spencer. "I'm wet, too."

Aria shoots Spencer a grateful look, and Spencer gives her a small smile.

Hanna just shrugs. "There are enough showers in this house that all of us could probably take a shower at the same time."

"We'd run out of hot water, though," says Spencer. "The hot water heater's old."

As the girls begin to get ready for the day, Aria is oddly quiet. Spencer squats down beside her as Emily and Hanna leave the room to get ready in the bathroom, Emily heading to Spencer's parents' bathroom.

"I'm not going to tell Hanna, okay? And neither is Emily."

"Okay," whispers Aria. She looks upset again, and Spencer awkwardly rubs her shoulder.

"Just . . . lay off me, okay? I'll keep your secret if you just stop making comments."

Aria nods, and Spencer leaves her alone, grabbing clothes and heading to the guest shower at the other end of the house.

She only hopes Aria keeps her promise.

/~/

A few days pass and Spencer enjoys being able to be herself without her parents constantly watching her like a hawk. But on the day they're due to come home, Spencer feels a little off. She's tired and doesn't feel like doing anything except lying on the couch and sucking her thumb. Her head feels fuzzy and achy, and there's a slight itch at the back of her throat.

She's run out of diapers, so she's back to using the Pull-Ups, and just as she gives thought to changing, she feels the diaper give and leak under her bottom. Damn.

Standing up quickly so that the wetness doesn't go on the couch, she starts to head to the laundry room to strip off her pants, but at the moment she stands, she hears the back door open and her parents and Melissa come through.

"Hi, honey," greets her mother cheerfully. "You wouldn't believe how Melissa's presentation went. She totally rocked it, just like we always knew she would!" She squeezes Melissa's shoulder and Melissa smiles, a little smugly.

Mr. Hastings looks at Spencer and smiles. "How was your weekend, champ? Enjoy the time with your friends?" He comes towards her, maybe to hug her, but stops short. "Spencer . . ."

Spencer feels a slow blush come over her cheeks, and she tries to explain. "It's the first time all weekend, I swear. I've been trying my best to do what you want."

Mrs. Hastings notices Spencer's wet pants and sighs. "Spencer. Honestly. We leave you home and expect you to be able to take care of things and you can't even manage to take care of yourself." She comes over and makes to undress her daughter, but Spencer takes a step back, looking horrified.

"Mom!"

Melissa rolls her eyes. "Well, she may as well change you just like she did a year ago. You're clearly not interested in taking care of yourself."

Mr. Hastings nods in response to Melissa's comment, and then his eyes fall on the side table next to the couch. Spencer's last bottle is sitting there on the coaster.

"Spencer," he begins, his voice stern and angry. "What is this, young lady?"

Spencer whirls away from her mother. "Don't, Dad, please! Don't take it away!"

"You're not supposed to have any!" He snatches the bottle up in his hands and hands it to Melissa. "Melissa, can you get rid of this, please? She was supposed to have given up all her bottles last week."

"Trust Spencer to lie about it and keep one back," scoffs Melissa, but Spencer charges over and snatches the bottle from Melissa before anyone can do anything about it, and stands her ground, her face red, her eyes screwed up.

"I'm keeping this! I want it and it doesn't hurt anything!"

Mrs. Hastings just shakes her head in disgust. "Spencer, don't, please. Just hand it over and let's finally move on from this. I am so tired of having the same old fight again and again."

Mr. Hastings makes a grab for the bottle, but Spencer clutches it close to her, and then pushes past her father and Melissa to run out the back door.

"I hate all of you! You just want me to be miserable!"

Mrs. Hastings starts to run after Spencer, but Melissa stops her. "Let the crybaby go if it's that big of a deal. She can sit in the barn and get sick because she's wet and refuses to change. Whatever."

Spencer doesn't even stop to address this. She simply runs to the barn, turned into a small loft for guests that stay at the Hastings' home by Spencer herself, and locks the door behind her.

The loft is stocked with food, water, and supplies, everything that anyone would need to be comfortable. Spencer places the bottle on the counter and begins to cry, hard. Now she's stuck out here, at least until her parents deem fit to let her back in the house. At least she has a few diapers stashed away in the bathroom out here. Her parents often let her study here in the afternoons when she needs a change of scenery.

Spencer sinks to her knees on the carpet and pulls out her phone. There's only one person she wants in these situations, and she's wishing now that Emily had just stayed with her after the sleepover. She texts SOS to Emily and waits for the response.

/~/

When Emily comes to the barn loft, she sees Spencer through the wide swinging doors, standing beside the counter and crying. She also sees that Spencer's bottle is sitting up on the counter, and wonders what's happened now.

She knocks tentatively at the door, and Spencer looks up, coming over and unlocking the door. Her face is tearstained and her nose runny, and Emily's first impression is that Spencer needs a bath. Badly.

"Oh, honey. You're soaking wet. What's going on? What happened?" Emily strokes Spencer's hair back from her forehead, trying not to look grossed out by her friend's appearance, but Spencer just begins to sob again, and Emily knows at this point that what Spencer needs is someone to take over her care.

"Let's get you cleaned up, okay? I'll run a bath for you. I guess the water's hooked up out here, now?"

Spencer nods, unable to speak, and Emily goes into the bathroom across from the kitchen, running a bath in the large and spacious tub. The Hastings don't do anything by half.

When it's ready, full of lavender-scented bubbles, she beckons to Spencer. "Come on. Get out of those wet things and get in. Sweetie, you can't stay wet like that. You're going to get really sore."

"I'm already sore," sniffles Spencer, and Emily rubs her shoulders.

"Do you have supplies out here?"

"I have diapers. No cream. And I don't have any pajamas or anything either," sniffles Spencer, and Emily sighs.

"Spence. I take it you're out here because your parents and Melissa are home. I can't exactly sneak into your house this time."

Spencer just shrugs and rubs her eyes tiredly. Emily puts a concerned hand on Spencer's forehead.

"Are you getting sick, Spence? You're kind of warm."

"Maybe," says Spencer, her voice sounding a bit clogged, and Emily sighs again.

"I'm going to go home and get the stuff we need, okay? You'll fit into my things, and I think I have an old tube of rash cream somewhere. You get in the bath and soak, and I'll get what we need."

Spencer just nods and pulls off her shirt, and Emily closes the door behind Spencer, giving her some privacy.

It doesn't take long for Emily to grab a pair of PJ pants and a long-sleeved shirt and the tube of rash cream. She also takes some cold pills from the medicine cabinet, just in case Spencer is getting really sick. She's going to be even more miserable if she is.

When she arrives back at the loft, she notices that Spencer's parents' car is gone. All the better. They won't be bothering Spencer tonight.

Emily lays out the clothing and a fresh diaper on the bed upstairs and then washes out Spencer's bottle. There is milk in the fridge, so Emily starts a pot of milk heating on the stove. When Spencer emerges from the bathroom, her eyes and cheeks red, Emily comes over and rubs Spencer's shoulders under the towel.

"Feel better?" Emily strokes Spencer's soft hair, and Spencer nods, looking tired.

"I guess so. I don't feel good," she whimpers, and Emily kisses her forehead. It's burning up.

"Oh, sweetie. I know. I've got some medicine for you. Go upstairs and get changed, okay?"

Spencer holds onto Emily's hand, though, and Emily knows what she wants.

"Spence, let's not make it . . . weird. You can do it by yourself."

Spencer just begins to cry then, her chest hitching painfully from all the sobbing she's been doing, and Emily sighs. "Sweetheart . . . you can do it by yourself, okay?"

Spencer shakes her head, and Emily finally gives in. "This once, I'll help you. But you're a big girl. And this is weird. I don't think this is necessary at all, in fact," she adds, trying to make herself clear, but Spencer just tugs on her hand.

Emily lets go of Spencer for a moment to pull the milk off the stove, and notices Spencer starting to shiver. "Come on. It's going to get even worse if you stand there all wet."

She accompanies Spencer up the stairs and carefully unwraps the towel from around the thin girl. She's never seen Spencer completely naked – as friends, they maintained a certain amount of modesty, and Emily can't help the blush coming up on her cheeks as she takes in Spencer's thin body and small breasts.

But Spencer doesn't even notice. She just lies back on the bed and lets Emily put on her diaper, then her pants. Lastly, she sits up and raises her arms, and Emily pulls her shirt over her head. At the last, Emily touches Spencer's nose as her head emerges from the neck hole, and gets a ghost of a smile from the other girl.

"Okay. Come on. Let's get you your bottle and some medicine. You've definitely got a fever."

Spencer doesn't let go of Emily's hand as they go down the stairs, and Emily has to pour the bottle one-handed, because the minute she tries to take her hand back, Spencer's lower lip starts trembling. Being as Spencer is relatively self-sufficient in most things, this behaviour is weird.

When the bottle is ready, Spencer picks up a soft, minky throw blanket from the sofa and rubs it against her cheek. She looks so sweet with her sleepy eyes and curling hair that Emily can't help giving her a hug. Spencer puts her head on Emily's shoulder and sighs deeply and a little shakily.

"Oh, you've had a hard time today, haven't you?" Emily asks Spencer, stroking her hair. "My poor girl."

Spencer just cuddles more into Emily, and Emily kisses her hair again. She sort of likes comforting Spencer this way. The other girl responds so well to affection, probably due to having never had any regular affection in her life.

She hands Spencer two pills and watches as the girl swallows them, then gives her the warm bottle. Spencer sucks at it raptly for a few moments, but then grimaces.

"Throat hurts," she whimpers, and Emily holds out her arms.

"Come here and cuddle."

Holding Spencer much as she did the first time this happened, Emily wraps Spencer in her blanket and arranges pillows so that the girl is cradled against her chest, her long legs spilling over the rest of the couch. Spencer attempts to suck on her bottle, but she keeps stopping to gasp for breath. The third time this happens, Spencer lets go of the bottle altogether and begins to cry, her voice sounding cracked.

"Oh, Spence. Is your nose clogged?" Emily strokes Spencer's hair and grabs a Kleenex from the side table beside the couch. Spencer sits up and tries to blow her nose, but it doesn't do much good. She has to drink her bottle sitting up to be able to breathe.

After half of it, though, she pushes it aside and turns into Emily, shivering a bit, even under the heavy blanket. Emily rubs her back.

"Poor sick girl."

Spencer knows how Emily feels about thumb sucking, but there's no pacifier in the loft and she just really needs to suck on something. She sneaks her thumb into her mouth, looking up at Emily as if for permission.

Emily just smiles. "You're sick. You do what you have to, honey."

Spencer closes her eyes as the cold medicine takes effect, and Emily can feel her fever going down. She strokes Spencer's hair and back until the girl falls asleep.

But just before she does, Spencer opens her eyes to catch Emily's, and looks at her questioningly.

Emily just sighs. "I know. Don't tell the girls. I'm not going to, Spence, not after what happened with Aria the other night. Everyone wants this stuff to remain a secret. I do wish you'd tell me what's going on with you and your parents, though."

Spencer just shakes her head, and when she speaks, her voice starts to sound hoarse. "There's no point, Em. I just want to . . . I just want this to be our thing. Our secret."

Emily cuddles her friend close and smiles as Spencer's hand clasps her shirt again.

"Of course I'll keep the secret. What are friends for?"


	3. Chapter 3

"Emily . . ." Spencer tosses restlessly in the barn loft's bed, her forehead sweaty and her eyes squinched shut. "Emily . . . Emily!"

Emily rolls over and opens her exhausted eyes for the fifteenth time that night. "I'm right here, Spencer. Shh." She wraps her arms around the other girl, unsurprised to find her burning up again. Spencer's illness had only gotten worse as the evening wore on, her fever spiking to sky-high levels and her body dehydrating. Emily had spent most of the evening trying to get Spencer to drink as much water as possible, but she'd only wet her diaper once in the entire eight hours Emily had been there.

"Spence . . . oh, honey." Emily rubs Spencer's back as the thin girl's cough reverberates through her entire body. "You're really sick. I wish you'd let me call your parents."

"No," gasps Spencer, clinging to Emily. "They're just going to be mad at me, Emily, don't call them. Don't," she begs, her voice starting to sound teary. "Don't call them."

"Okay, shh, shh." Emily holds Spencer close to her. "I think you need some more medicine."

"I don't want it," whines Spencer, pressing her hot face into Emily's neck. "I don't want any more. I just want some water."

"Oh, Spence." All night, Emily had been fighting Spencer on the medicine angle. When she was rational, Spencer had no problems taking whatever she needed to keep her going, but when she was sick, she was whiny and non-compliant. If Emily wasn't so concerned Spencer would end up dangerously febrile, she would have given up long ago.

"I want a drink," murmurs Spencer, and Emily heaves herself out of bed. The minute she lets go of Spencer, however, Spencer's lower lip begins to tremble, and as Emily moves away from the bed, Spencer begins to cry.

"Oh, sweetie. I can't get you a drink without getting up!" Emily runs a hand through her dark hair in exasperation. Spencer had barely let her go all night, not even for a minute. Sure enough, despite her fever and weakness, Spencer struggles up from under the covers and attempts to follow Emily down the stairs.

"Spencer. No." Emily's voice is firm, which just causes Spencer to begin sobbing. Great.

"I'll be right back," Emily tries to rationalize gently, steering her friend back to the bed. "You're going to –"

Before she can finish her sentence, Spencer begins to shiver violently and then to cough, her thin legs wobbling under her.

"See?" Emily presses a kiss onto Spencer's feverish forehead. "Stay in bed. I will be right back. I'm not leaving."

Gently tucking Spencer back into bed, she ignores Spencer's growing wails as she runs lightly down the stairs to the kitchen. Drinking from a glass is messy and hard for Spencer in this state, but she only has one bottle. Emily quickly washes out the bottle, sitting in the sink, and calls back up the stairs to Spencer.

"Stay there. I'm coming right away."

In another minute, Emily has filled the bottle with cool water from the fridge and is back upstairs where Spencer is trying to get out of bed again.

"Spence," sighs Emily. "No. You can't get up, okay? You need to lie down. You're going to fall and then you're going to get hurt. I have a drink for you right here." She doesn't mention that she also has Spencer's latest dose of cold medicine, too. That's a fight they'll be having soon enough.

Spencer lies back in bed, exhausted, and sucks eagerly at the bottle Emily holds. But a suck of water goes down the wrong way, and she starts to cough violently, spraying water all over her pajama top and Emily's bottle-holding arm.

"I'm sorry," whispers Spencer, when she can talk, and Emily looks puzzled.

"It's okay. You just choked, sweetie."

Spencer shakes her head slowly, her lower lip trembling, and Emily suddenly realizes what's wrong when she sees Spencer shift uncomfortably.

Raising the comforter, Emily catches sight of a stain spreading slowly across Spencer's pajama pants. Her diaper must have leaked. Spencer shivers suddenly at the cooler air and closes her eyes in exhaustion as she starts to cry again.

"It's okay," says Emily, a little awkwardly. Changing Spencer's wet diaper earlier had been more than weird, but Spencer had been coherent enough to do most of the work herself, just depending on Emily to help her position the new diaper into place. Emily having to actually deal with Spencer's accident herself is really beyond the call of friendship. But Spencer is so sick, and leaving her to clean herself up is going to just be dangerous. The girl can barely stand.

"I'll get you cleaned up, okay?" Emily gently runs a hand under Spencer's bottom to make sure she hasn't leaked on the bed. Thankfully, she hasn't. Spencer picks the bottle up from where Emily put it down beside her and begins to suck on it thirstily. She really can't get enough water, and Emily knows she needs her medicine as soon as possible.

Gently uncovering Spencer all the way, Emily winces when the girl predictably begins to shiver. "I know it's uncomfortable, Spence, but it'll be done soon and you'll be nice and dry." Emily doesn't know where the words to comfort Spencer are even coming from – she's certainly not usually this affectionate. She also realizes she sounds uncomfortably like her own mother.

Pushing the thought out of the way, she strips off Spencer's wet pants and fetches a fresh diaper and wipes from the dresser across from the bed. Moving quickly, Emily tries to change Spencer as fast as she can. She feels extremely awkward, but Spencer's eyes are closed as she sucks on her bottle of water. She isn't even paying attention, she's just that sick.

When Spencer is dry, Emily gently replaces the covers and sneaks down the stairs with the other girl's wet pants. There are no dry pajamas in the loft, and Emily knows that she'll either have to wash the pants by hand or run next door and grab another pair. Spencer's asleep right now, but she still hasn't had her medicine, and Emily runs the risk of leaving and having Spencer wake up and be extremely upset.

The thing is, when Spencer does get up later, hopefully when she feels better, she's going to need dry pants. Emily could sneak into Spencer's house, but it's now almost two o'clock in the morning, and she doesn't want to take the risk of running into Spencer's parents.

Shooting a look at sleeping Spencer, Emily decides to risk it. Spencer should sleep for at least another fifteen minutes, and Emily can grab a few pairs of dry pajamas from her own house. She foresees a long night ahead.

Slipping out the door, Emily just prays Spencer stays asleep long enough for her to get back without causing upset.

/~/

Spencer's eyes flutter open. Her whole body feels like it's on fire, and when she moves, her limbs ache like someone's beaten her up. Ugh.

"Emily," she whispers. "Emily . . ."

There's no answer. Spencer tries to raise her head, but it seems so heavy. Her sinuses feel packed with some kind of glue. Her throat aches and she fumbles at the bedside table, trying to find her bottle. Her hand swipes against it, but it falls on the floor with a dull clunk. Spencer's face crumples and she begins to whimper.

"Emily . . . I need some water. Can you get me a drink? Please?"

Again, there's no answer, and Spencer's lower lip begins to tremble. Where has Emily gone? Has she just left Spencer alone?

Spencer realizes sometimes she can be annoying. She's intense and overbearing, and she knows that her friends aren't always on the same page she is. Her parents find her annoying and babyish, and her sister frankly seems to hate her. But she's sick and alone and she can barely move . . .

Spencer begins to cry in a cracked, hoarse voice. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry . . . Emily, please come back. I can't do it myself. I feel so bad . . . come back, please, Emily, please?"

Her whimpers turn into harsh sobs. "I know I've been a bad girl. I just need someone to help me. Emily? Mom? Where is everyone?"

Spencer's chest begins to hitch as she rolls over painfully to curl into a fetal position, holding her arms close to her stomach. She tries to suck her thumb, but she's crying too hard and her breath is coming in gasps.

"I don't want to be alone," she cries out, and starts to shiver, half with cold, and half with fear. What if she's alone and sick and someone decides to come and break in? The more Spencer's feverish brain works, the more catastrophic her situation becomes in her mind. Someone could break in, try to kill her, steal all the furnishings she and her mother had carefully picked out for the loft . . .

Spencer turns her face into her pillow and hopes she passes out or something before that happens. The entire bed is vibrating with her gasping, shivering, and coughing. She feels her bladder release and holds herself, hoping she doesn't end up leaking in the bed and having to be cold, wet, and scared.

Just then, she hears the door to the barn open, and she curls up even more tightly.

"Emily," she cries.

/~/

Emily, a bunch of pajamas and an extra blanket crammed into a large shopping bag in her arms, opens the door to the barn cautiously, hoping that Spencer is still asleep. There's silence as she slips inside the door, but as she closes it softly behind her, there's a cracked, frightened voice.

"Emily," Spencer cries out, and Emily immediately dashes up the stairs, kicking off her shoes as she goes, hoping Spencer's just woken up.

But from the way Spencer looks, wild, scared and beyond upset, Emily knows that Spencer's been freaking out for at least ten minutes.

"Oh, Spence. Shh. I'm right here. Shhh." Emily sits on the bed and wraps her arms around her poor friend, and isn't surprised when Spencer immediately fastens her arms around Emily. She almost holds her so tightly, Emily has trouble breathing.

"Oh, shh." Emily strokes Spencer's tumbled curls, trying to calm her. "Shhh. I'm right here. I didn't leave. I just went next door to get some dry clothes for you. I was only gone for ten minutes."

Spencer's chest is hitching so badly, Emily can actually hear her breathing rattling dangerously. After a second, Spencer coughs painfully, her paroxysm so bad she starts to gag. Emily swiftly grabs for Spencer's bottle of water, but she can't find it. At the same time, Spencer gags and spits up water onto her shirt.

"Okay," says Emily soothingly, hoping Spencer isn't going to start vomiting everywhere. "It's okay. Just take some deep breaths and try to calm down." Emily hasn't seen Spencer freak out this bad, well, ever. She should have given her cold medicine before she let her fall asleep, she realizes ruefully.

Spencer manages to get herself calm enough to stop the coughing fit, and Emily is able to pick up the bottle of water, fallen beside the bed. After a few sips, Spencer's breathing is more or less under control, though she's still hiccupping.

Emily picks up the cold medicine bottle from the bedside table and shakes out two pills. "You are taking these now, missy. I'm not letting you go another minute with a fever that high." They don't have a thermometer, but Emily can feel the heat of Spencer's body right through her clothes.

Spencer shakes her head, but Emily insists, and after a minute, Spencer takes the medicine and a long swallow of water.

"Good girl," whispers Emily, and presses a kiss onto Spencer's forehead. "Shh. I'm right here. You're okay." She gently disentangles Spencer's arms and starts to take off her pajama top. "Poor baby. That was scary, wasn't it?"

"Where did you go?" Spencer's eyes are starting to look calmer, which is a comfort to Emily. Spencer still won't let go of Emily's sleeve, though, which makes undressing her hard. But her shirt is soaked and she needs to dry off.

"I went to go and get some dry pajamas. You wet through your pajama pants," says Emily, trying not to meet Spencer's eyes – it's still awkward to talk about. "And now you've spit up on your shirt, so I guess it's good I have dry clothes."

Spencer's chin quivers. "I'm sorry. It was an accident," she says, her voice wavering, and Emily gently puts a fresh top on Spencer, then strokes her hair.

"It's okay, sweetheart. You're just really sick. Accidents happen when you're sick."

Spencer nods, but she still looks sad, and Emily gives her a big hug. "Stop worrying about it so much. Do you want some more water?"

Spencer just looks down, and Emily sees, with a shock of discomfort, that Spencer is holding the front of her diaper.

"Oh. Are you wet again? You can just tell me," she adds quickly. "It's okay. I don't want your rash to get worse."

Spencer nods, a blush coming up on her cheeks for the first time since Emily came over. "I don't think I can do it myself . . ."

"It's okay, Spence. I've got it." Emily gently pushes Spencer back so that she's lying on the bed and begins to change her. "It looks like your fever's going down."

"I feel a little better," says Spencer, but her voice is hoarse, and right in the middle of her sentence, she yawns widely, her eyes closing in exhaustion.

"Aw, sweetie. You need to sleep. I'll get you a fresh bottle of water and then we'll try to get some sleep, okay?"

"I'm sorry for freaking out," murmurs Spencer, her thumb finding her mouth. "And for being so much trouble." The last words are muffled as Spencer begins to suck on her thumb, her eyes closed.

"Not so fast," says Emily, gently shaking Spencer awake. "I want you to have a good drink of water. It'll help your cough."

Spencer whimpers and tries to turn over, but Emily is putting on a fresh pair of PJ pants and gently turns her back over. "Not yet. I'm going to let you sleep really soon."

Emily refills Spencer's bottle in the bathroom and hands it to the sleepy girl, who sucks a few times and then hands it back to Emily. "All done."

"Hmm. I don't think you are," says Emily, but Spencer just lets out a loud, exasperated sigh and turns over in bed, cuddling into Emily.

"Sleepy," she whines, and Emily gives up.

"Okay." She settles down, smiling as Spencer curls up in her arms, her thumb in her mouth. Her body is already a lot cooler. If only she wouldn't fight Emily so hard on the cold medicine, she wouldn't get to the dangerous crisis level that worries Emily so much.

Spencer falls asleep quickly, still holding onto Emily. Just before Emily falls asleep herself, she thinks about this situation and realizes she doesn't find it as awkward as before.

Maybe she's realizing she actually likes looking after Spencer, after all.


	4. Chapter 4

It's been a long, long night. Emily lies beside Spencer, unable to sleep. Spencer's body is hot against hers, and every so often, the girl lets out a soft whimper that breaks Emily's heart. Despite the medicine she's been pushing on Spencer, Spence isn't doing well. Her fever's spiked several times since earlier in the night, and both girls haven't gotten much sleep.

Spencer rolls over fitfully and begins to cough painfully for about the millionth time that night. Emily reaches for Spencer's bottle of water, but finds it empty. Shit.

A wave of exhaustion washes over her as she gets out of bed. Sometimes, Spencer's coughing fits stop on their own, but Emily can tell by the rattle in the girl's breath that this one is going to be a doozy. Spencer's already gagged and spit up once that night. Emily recognizes it from her own previous illnesses – that cough is the vomity type of cough. And vomit is just something she can't really deal with.

Spencer's eyes open and she sits up, clutching her chest, her entire body shaking from the cough. Emily turns swiftly to run down the stairs to refill Spencer's water bottle, and for a moment, as she runs the water, she hears Spencer clearing her throat and trying to get herself under control. Filling the bottle to the top, Emily screws the nipple back on and runs back up the stairs to see Spencer start to gag.

"Okay, Spence, it's right here. Take a sip and breathe," instructs Emily, and Spencer sucks on the bottle for a moment. Crisis averted. Her cheeks fade from bright red back to pale, and she slumps in exhaustion on the bed, her eyes closing. Emily isn't even sure she's totally woken up.

Emily runs a hand under Spencer's bottom. So far, so good. The other girl hasn't wet through her latest diaper and pajama pants yet, though every coughing fit has ended with her needing a diaper change. Emily hauls out the supplies from under Spencer's side of the bed and gently eases off Spencer's pants, meaning to change her diaper. But Spencer starts to shiver at the sudden exposure and after a moment, she whimpers again, the hoarseness of her voice heartbreaking.

Emily's beginning to think she can't handle this anymore. Spencer is getting no better. She's just getting worse.

She gets back into bed and feels Spencer move towards her, her arms fastening around Emily's waist again. Spencer is so clingy right now, Emily feels almost touched out. But how can she leave the poor sick girl in bed alone? Spencer is often waking up with nightmares or completely disoriented.

So instead of moving away from Spencer's arms, she turns over and cuddles her friend close to her. Spencer just sighs and her thumb goes into her mouth. The rhythmic sucking lulls Emily to sleep, too, and for another hour or so, the two girls sleep without incident.

The next time Emily wakes up, it's because Spencer is crying. It's more than just a whimper – she's full-on sobbing.

"Oh, Spence." Emily smooths Spencer's sweaty hair away from her forehead. "What's wrong?"

"I don't feel good," wails Spencer, rubbing her eyes. "I feel awful, Emily!"

Emily presses a kiss to Spencer's head. "I know, sweetheart. It's time for more medicine anyway, okay?"

Emily expects Spencer to refuse, but instead, Spencer just nods, which Emily finds strange. She lays a hand on Spencer's forehead and snatches it away. Spencer is burning hot, more than she's been all night.

"Oh, Spencer. I think it's time . . ." Emily trails off as Spencer fixes her fever-bright eyes on Emily.

"Time for what?" whimpers Spencer, rubbing a hand across her nose. Emily wrinkles her nose and pulls a tissue from the box beside the bed. Spencer clenches the tissue in her fist and scrubs at her face, then whimpers and starts to sob again.

"Time to call your parents." Emily doesn't want to do this. She knows it's going to upset Spencer to hear this, and sure enough, Spencer inhales and opens her mouth, probably to wail more loudly, but her breath catches in her throat and she starts to cough, hard. This time, the cough isn't the dry cough she's had all night. This time, Emily can hear her lungs fighting to rid themselves of the sickness she has.

"Slow down, Spence. Try to breathe," advises Emily, handing Spencer her bottle. But before Spencer can take a sip, she starts to gag. Emily gets out of bed and comes around to help Spencer with her bottle.

"No, you can get through this. Shhh. Just breathe." Emily starts to rub Spencer's back in slow movements, but Spencer clutches her stomach, gags again, and then vomits all over herself. After a shocked moment in which there's complete silence, her face crumples and she freezes, beginning to sob without any sound at all.

Emily is horrified.

She can't help it – she turns away from Spencer and runs down the stairs to where her phone is. At this point, she doesn't even think about Spencer trying to get up and follow her – she quickly dials her mother's number.

It's still early, about 7 AM – but Emily knows her mother will pick up. And sure enough, after a second, her mother answers the phone in her matter-of-fact voice.

"Hello?"

"Mom?" Emily's usually calm, modulated voice cracks. "Mom . . . I need help."

"Em? Honey, where are you? Did you stay at your friend's last night? You're supposed to let us know . . ."

"I'm sorry," whimpers Emily, her voice sounding very young. "Mommy . . . Spencer is really sick. We're in her barn loft. She's got a high fever and she just threw up and she's coughing a lot."

From upstairs, Emily hears Spencer beg, "Emily . . . don't call them. Don't call them, I'm sorry . . ."

Emily's mother sounds concerned. "Honey, why isn't she with her parents? How long have you been over there?"

Emily starts to cry. "She called me last night. They had a fight and she's been out here all night. She doesn't want me to call them, but Mommy, I'm so scared. She's so sick and she won't let me go and I don't know what to do!"

Emily's mother sounds calm and reassuring. "Okay, baby. It's okay. I'll be right there, okay? I'm going to give her parents a call. Can you go up there and stay with her?"

"She's a big mess. She threw up everywhere," whimpers Emily, and her mother chuckles a little bit, wryly, on the other end.

"Okay. I'll be right there. Do you have any changes of clothes? Is she still in diapers? Does she have any supplies at all?"

Emily shakes her head on the phone, forgetting her mother can't see her. "I have another set of PJs, I think, but she doesn't have any diapers left . . . not that I can see in here, anyway. And her parents only give her the pull-up kind."

Emily's mother hums a little, sounding as if she's writing things down. "Okay. I'll bring over everything. Hang on, okay?"

"Okay," Emily rubs a hand across her exhausted eyes. "Come quickly."

"Okay. I love you, baby. You're being a brave girl."

Hearing her mother speak to her as if she's still little helps Emily find her strength again. "I love you, too."

Emily hangs up the phone and looks up the stairs at the loft. She can't just leave Spencer like that, but . . . the vomit is so disgusting, Emily is actually afraid she might vomit, too.

She can hear Spencer whimpering, sounding utterly spent and defeated. When Emily goes upstairs, she finds Spencer trying with all her might to get out of bed, holding her wet, smelly shirt out from her chest.

"Oh, Spence. Don't do that. My mom is going to be here soon."

Spencer looks up, her face deathly white. "I can do it," she whispers, her voice almost gone. "I can do it myself."

Emily steps closer to Spencer, feeling awkward. "No, just wait. My mom will help you get changed."

Spencer won't look at Emily, and Emily finds it strange, being as Spencer was very clingy not five minutes ago. "I can do it. Don't call her," she says, trying to get some of her old authority back in her voice, but failing miserably. That's when Emily realizes that Spencer isn't just messy from vomit. She's messy in other ways, too.

Emily's face creases in sympathy. "It's okay. It was an accident."

"Don't call her," whispers Spencer, her voice starting to crack. "Don't tell her."

"Honey . . . she's going to know anyway, she has to help you get in the bath," says Emily, trying to calm Spencer down. As she takes another tentative step towards her friend, she hears a sharp knock on the barn loft's door.

"My mom is here, Spencer. Don't move. Stay where you are," commands Emily, and runs down the stairs. When she sees her mother at the door, she throws her arms around her and starts to cry.

"Mommy . . . you're here!"

Mrs. Fields wraps her arms around her daughter. "It's okay. I'm here. Shh. It's okay."

"She's a big mess," says Emily, wiping her eyes and trying to be mature. "She's covered in puke and she's pooped her pants, too. She needs a bath."

"She needs her parents," says Mrs. Fields darkly, but says nothing else for the moment. She hefts a big bag with a change of clothes, a few diapers, and a jacket and a pair of shoes. "We're going to move her out of here once she's clean. It's nice, of course, but Spencer needs someone to look after her if she's this sick."

"I've been trying," says Emily, feeling defeated. "But she just got so sick, so quickly . . ."

"Oh, honey," Emily's mother says, turning around and stroking her daughter's hair. "You've done so well. Far and away what anyone would expect from a friend. Spencer's a lucky girl to have you. But you need to call me next time if you're going to stay with a friend all night, okay?"

Emily nods, and they climb the stairs together to find Spencer lying on her side in a fetal position, facing the wall of the loft.

Mrs. Fields puts her bag down and gently puts a hand on Spencer's shoulder. "Spence? Sweetie? It's Emily's mom. It's Mrs. Fields."

Spencer turns her head and her face crumples in exhaustion. "Don't look," she begs. "I'm sorry."

"Oh, honey." Emily's mother kneels beside her. "It was an accident. It's okay. You're not in trouble." Her soothing voice makes Emily feel calmer, and it appears to do the same to Spencer. After a moment, Spencer lets Mrs. Fields peel back the sodden covers, exposing her messy pajamas and smelly body.

"We're going to get you into a bath," says Mrs. Fields calmly, "and then we're going to move you over to our house, okay? You're too sick to stay by yourself here."

Spencer appears to be taking everything in, but when Mrs. Fields mentions moving, she starts to whimper. "I don't want to go. I want to stay here," she rasps, and Mrs. Fields strokes back Spencer's sweaty hair.

"I know. But you need someone to take care of you. And Emily's tired. She needs to sleep."

"I want my mom," whispers Spencer, and Mrs. Fields' mouth hardens.

"I know, sweetheart. I know you do. I'm going to try to get ahold of them, okay? And then you can go home to your own bed."

"Mommy's going to be mad at me," says Spencer, and her chest hitches painfully with a sob. "I was bad."

"No, you're just sick, sweetie. Come on. Let's get a bath and a fresh change of clothes, and then we'll move you over to our house when you're ready, okay?"

"I need a bath," agrees Spencer, and Emily's mother nods as she accepts Spencer's bottle from Emily, who also hands her some cold medicine.

"Here, sweetheart. You take these and they'll help your fever. Oh, you're so sick, aren't you?" By now, Spencer is pressed into Emily's mother's side, and Emily feels a slight stab of jealousy. It's been so long since her mother has used that soft voice and gentle tone with her. Spencer obediently opens her mouth and takes the pills, and then drinks thirstily at her bottle for a few seconds until she feels ready to get up.

Mrs. Fields has to help Spencer get out of bed – the girl is so weak that her legs start to wobble as soon as she puts weight on them. Immediately, Spencer begins to cough, and Emily's mother gently puts the bottle to Spencer's lips again.

"We're going to take this nice and slow, Spencer. And it's okay if you can't make it to the bathroom. We'll just give you a little sponge bath here in bed, okay?"

"Made a mess," whimpers Spencer hoarsely, her hands fisting around Mrs. Field's shirt collar. Mrs. Fields gently rubs Spencer's back.

"It's okay. We're going to get you nice and clean. Oh, sweetie. Shh, don't cry," she adds, as Spencer's face begins to crumple again. "It's not a big deal."

Emily's own face twists a little, her jealousy taking over, and she goes downstairs to start running the bath for Spencer, just to feel useful. Of course it's okay that her mom is taking care of Spencer . . . isn't it? What's wrong with Emily's brain right now?

It takes almost five minutes, but Mrs. Fields is able to carefully walk Spencer down the stairs and into the bathroom. She smiles at her daughter, waiting by the bathtub, looking anxious and like she wants to be useful.

"Em, sweetie, can you go up and strip the bed? We'll wash the sheets you two used last night with the rest of Spencer's laundry. And then you can just go on home if you'd like, get into bed. I've got it from here. And you look so tired, baby."

Emily shakes her head firmly. "No, I want to stay and help." She bites her lip, avoiding her mother's direct gaze. She doesn't know if her mother can tell that she's jealous, but she doesn't want to let on that she is. That just seems selfish.

Spencer sinks in exhaustion onto the closed lid of the toilet, her body shivering with the effort of coming downstairs. Mrs. Fields looks at her critically and then turns back to Emily.

"I know your father just got home two days ago, but I really don't think Spencer can make it even across the yard to our house. Can you ask him to come in about half an hour? If we're going to move her, he's going to have to carry her."

A big lump settles in Emily's throat at that. Carry her? But . . . her dad stopped carrying her, Emily, when she was about eleven, citing she was too big. She's taller and slightly heavier than Spencer, but the two girls are pretty much the same height and weight. How come Spencer isn't too heavy?

Emily shakes her head, trying to clear the unwanted thoughts. "Of course, Mom. He should be up by now, right?"

"Yes, sweetie, he was up when you called." Mrs. Fields turns back to Spencer and smiles softly at her. Spencer is yawning and rubbing her eyes. "Arms up, sweetheart."

Spencer obediently raises her arms, and Mrs. Fields takes off Spencer's smelly, damp shirt. "Good girl. I'm going to need you to stand up to get the rest, okay?"

Spencer nods, but her lower lip starts trembling at the thought of Mrs. Fields having to see the mess she made in her diaper. She hasn't made a mess like that in a long time . . . not for at least a year. That's the first thing teenagers get trained for!

Mrs. Fields strokes her hair. "Do you need a minute, Spence?"

Spencer shakes her head and stands up, closing her eyes in exhaustion and embarrassment. Not only is Mrs. Fields going to have to deal with her disgusting mess, she's also going to see her completely naked. No one has seen her completely naked since Emily did last night . . . and it was different then.

Mrs. Fields carefully undresses Spencer. "Put your hands on my shoulders, sweetie. I don't want you to fall over."

Spencer refuses to open her eyes, but does as Emily's mother tells her. She carefully picks up her right foot so that Mrs. Fields can take off her pants, but wobbles dangerously. Mrs. Fields catches Spencer by the elbow and calls her daughter over.

"Em, take Spencer by the arm, please, and hold her upright so that I can get these pants off her, will you?"

Emily obeys, holding Spencer firmly. Spencer turns into Emily and buries her face in her friend's shoulder. Emily doesn't really want to, but she strokes Spencer's tangled hair. If this is hard for Emily, it has to be ten times harder for the sick girl.

Now Spencer is just dressed in her messy diaper. Emily doesn't want to see any of this, so she closes her eyes and tries to breathe through her nose. Mrs. Fields quickly and carefully removes the diaper and wipes down Spencer with the baby wipes. In another moment, she's got Spencer by the arm and together, she and Emily help the sick girl into the bathtub.

Once Spencer is in the bath, her face relaxes completely. She lies back in the warm water, her head pillowed on the side of the tub, and closes her eyes.

"No, Spencer. Don't go to sleep," says Emily's mother, a little more firmly than the tone she's been using. "Stay awake, sweetie. Once you're clean, Mr. Fields will come over and we'll get you into bed at our house, okay?"

Spencer opens her eyes and rubs them with her wet fists. "I'm sorry," she says faintly. "I'm just so tired."

Emily's mother begins to wash Spencer down with lavender shower gel. The bathroom begins to smell pleasant, and Emily looks at her mother questioningly.

"Can I go and get Spencer's clothes ready?"

"That would be a help, dear. Thank you." Mrs. Fields is running warm water over Spencer's hair, and she turns her attention back to Spencer. "How does that feel, sweetie?"

"Really good," says Spencer, her eyes closed. For the first time all night, a ghost of a smile appears on her face. "It feels so good."

Emily bites her lip again. Her mother hasn't given her a bath in about two years. It's partly because Emily didn't want her to, but looking at Spencer starting to smile and warm up a little bit, her fever clearly coming down from the combination of the warm water and the medicine, Emily feels like she kind of wants her mother to give her a bath, too. Maybe.

She turns and goes up the stairs to the bed, stripping it with a little more force than necessary. Once all the dirty clothes are piled in the bags Emily and her mother brought over, Emily quietly lays out a pair of pajamas, a fresh diaper, and the jacket and shoes.

Her phone buzzes with a text, from her father. "Everything okay over there?"

"We need you to come and carry Spencer to our house," Emily texts back. "She can't really walk well."

After a moment, her father texts back, "When?"

Emily listens for a minute. There's some splashing, and then a definite hoarse giggle from Spencer. Her mother's lower, gentle laughter follows. Emily turns away, her lips twisting, and texts back her father.

"In about 15 mins. We need to get Spencer ready."

Emily puts her phone down and slips back down the stairs, peeking through the cracked door of the bathroom. Emily's mother is supporting Spencer as she climbs carefully out of the tub. After Spencer is standing, albeit very shakily, on the bath mat, Mrs. Fields wraps Spencer in a towel and then draws the girl close for a minute.

Emily knows she shouldn't be watching this, partly because it's kind of killing her inside, but she can't seem to look away.

Spencer's hand wiggles out of the towel and her thumb finds her mouth. She puts her head down on Emily's mother's shoulder and closes her eyes.

Emily's chin quivers and she backs away from the door. She doesn't understand why she feels the way she does. Shouldn't she be happy Spencer is finally being taken care of? And of course Emily's mother doesn't love Emily any less. But . . . she's tired and feeling a bit sick herself, and she wants her mother to look after her that way. Emily has always maintained that she was "too big" for a lot of what her mother is doing with Spencer. It was Emily's choice to get out of diapers early, and in nearly every case, it was Emily's choice to move ahead and be more grown up. So why does she wish she was as little as Spencer is right now?

The bathroom door opens and Spencer shuffles, wrapped in a towel, beside Emily's mother. She's looking sleepy, but she looks a lot happier, and Emily's jealous thoughts stop for a moment as Spencer gives her a shy smile.

"I feel better," she murmurs, and Emily can't help but smile back.

"You look a lot better, Spence."

"Well, she's no longer a big mess, are you, sweetie?" Mrs. Fields gently tickles Spencer's tummy, and Spencer giggles again. Emily looks away.

"I laid out her clothes upstairs. Dad's going to be here in about ten minutes."

"Okay. Thank you, baby." Emily's mother gives her a grateful smile, and Emily feels a little better. If she can't be little, she can at least be useful and grown up, and help her mother with Spencer.

She trails upstairs after them and smiles as Spencer lies down on the clean bed, wriggling a little like a puppy on it.

"Ahh," she breathes, and both Emily and her mother laugh a little bit.

"You feel a lot better, don't you, Spence?" Emily's mother smiles.

Spencer smiles then and nods a little shyly. Now that she does feel better, she feels more than a little embarrassed. A bright red blush comes up on her cheeks, and she turns her face into the mattress, trying to hide just how horrible this is suddenly making her feel.

Emily and her mother exchange a look of concern. Spencer's lower lip is trembling, and her entire body is curling up into a protective fetal position. It appears she's gotten most of her rational thought back with her fever receding.

"Spencer . . . do you need some help getting dressed?" ventures Emily, and Spencer shakes her head firmly.

"I'm okay. How about I call you when I'm ready?" Her voice is still hoarse and weak, and Mrs. Fields shakes her head firmly.

"No, sweetie, I'm going to give you a hand. I don't want you to fall. You might feel a little better, but I think you're still pretty weak."

Spencer knows Mrs. Fields is right, but . . . the entire night floods back to her. How she cried, pooped herself, threw up on herself . . . both Emily and her mother have seen her in the worst positions ever. How is she ever going to live this down?

Mrs. Fields gently strokes Spencer's curling hair. "How about we get you dressed and then over to our place, and you can sleep for a while? I think this is pretty overwhelming for you, isn't it?"

All Spencer wants is to lapse back into the state where it was okay for Mrs. Fields to take care of her, but now that she realizes just how embarrassing this is, she can't help but clap her hands over her face and stifle several horrified sobs.

Emily sits beside Spencer. "Spence. It's okay. No one is judging you. You're going to get cold." She rubs the spot between Spencer's shoulders that always gets stiff from leaning over books for hours and hours when she studies. And after a moment, Spencer leans into Emily.

Emily nods at her mother. "I think she's ready now."

Mrs. Fields gently unwraps Spencer's towel from around her thin body, exposing her to the air. Spencer begins to shiver, and the blush on her cheeks flushes bright red as all of her is exposed. Emily finds this sort of interesting, as Spencer didn't seem to have a problem with Emily seeing her naked last night. But again, she was really sick, so that could be why she didn't seem to care.

Mrs. Fields is quick. She diapers Spencer securely (and Emily notes with amusement that though Spencer is still exposed on the top, she relaxes visibly once her diaper is on) and then puts on a pair of Emily's winter pajamas. They're soft and grey with snowflakes printed all over them, the shirt long-sleeved. When Spencer is finally dressed, she sighs in relief, and then her smile appears again.

"Thank you," she murmurs. "For everything. I just . . . thanks."

Mrs. Fields strokes Spencer's curls again and then kneels down to put on her socks. "I'm sure you must feel a lot better now. We're going to try to get some food into you when we get to our house." She grins a little as Spencer shakes her head vehemently.

"No, you're going to have a little something. You haven't eaten since yesterday, I'd imagine, and you've got to be hungry, sweetheart."

Straightening up, Mrs. Fields picks up her phone and gives her husband a call. "Hi, honey. Yeah, she's ready to go. I'll get her coat on and see you in a minute." As she hangs up, she nods at Emily.

"Honey, can you go down and open the door for Dad? I'm going to get a coat on Spencer and we'll go over to our house." Efficiently, Mrs. Fields picks up the dirty towels, Spencer's dirty pajamas, and the sheets Emily has left on the bedroom floor and packs them into the bag she brought. Then she puts the warm coat she brought over on Spencer, zipping it securely, and cups the sick girl's chin affectionately.

"Ready to go now, I guess." Mrs. Fields' friendly dark eyes sparkle at Spencer, and Spencer nods. She doesn't really feel comfortable leaving the barn, but she does know she can't take care of herself. Not like this.

Just then, Emily's father, all 6'3" of him, comes up the stairs. He grins at Spencer. "I guess someone's not feeling well?" His booming voice is a little loud, and Spencer has to resist the urge to cover her ears. Emily's father is a jovial, very nice man, but she doesn't know him well. He's always been away on army tours and she's only met him a few times.

"Okay, Spence. We'll have you over to our house in just a few ticks." He comes to the bed and carefully lifts Spencer's long-limbed body, easily swinging her up into a cradle position in his arms. Spencer's blush comes back with a vengeance, and she covers her face, knowing she seems ungrateful.

Mr. Fields laughs a little bit. "What, this isn't dashing enough for you?"

Emily smiles, but her voice is reproving. "Dad. She'd really rather walk."

"And I can!" Spencer starts to struggle to get down. "I can walk, it's okay, really. In fact, I can just stay here. That's okay." Her voice starts to crack, and Mrs. Fields puts a hand on her shoulder.

"Spencer. It's okay. None of this is any trouble. Just relax."

Spencer's chin starts to quiver, and Emily grabs her hand. "It's okay. Shh. Just let my dad take it from here. No one thinks this is in any way strange."

"I want my mom," whispers Spencer, knowing she sounds like a baby, but she suddenly does. Badly. She wants her mom, and her own bed, and a cold washcloth on her forehead, and her favourite bottle filled with warm milk.

Mrs. Fields' face twists in sympathy. "I know, sweetheart. We're going to call them when we get you to our house. Go, hon," she says, gently pushing on her husband's shoulder. Mr. Fields gets a better grip on Spencer and carries her down the stairs and out the door of the barn.

The light is bright and the air is cold. Spencer involuntarily shrinks into Mr. Fields, her eyes squinting in the bright sunlight. In a few minutes, though, they're standing in the foyer of the Fields' home, and Mr. Fields starts to climb the stairs.

"Where are we putting her?"

Spencer winces at that. She feels like such a burden.

Mrs. Fields calls up the stairs. "In the spare room. Emily needs her room. She's exhausted." Downstairs, Mrs. Fields starts to take off her daughter's coat. Emily has been holding it together admirably until now, but she's starting to crumble. Her lower lip begins to shake as her mother gently removes her coat and then kneels to untie her shoes.

Upstairs, Mr. Fields gently places Spencer on the bed and pulls back the covers. "There you go, young lady. Just rest, okay? We're going to give your parents a call and we'll let you know when you can go back home. But for now, let's not overdo it." His usually harsh voice is softer, and Spencer crawls into bed, sinking gratefully into the soft pillows. Mrs. Fields' home is like a magazine spread – everything is so fancy and comfortable.

Snuggling into the pillows, her thumb finds her mouth and closing her eyes in exhaustion, Spencer is asleep before Mr. Fields can leave the room.

Finally, she feels somewhat safe.


	5. Chapter 5

Emily doesn’t even remember getting up the stairs. As soon as Spencer disappears up to the guest room with Mr. Fields, Emily starts to cry hard, and doesn’t stop.

“Oh, sweetheart. Shh. It’s okay. Everyone’s safe now.” Mrs. Fields gives her a hug, and Emily curls into her mother’s arms, her eyes closing against the flood of tears pouring down her face. She’s just so tired, and so stressed out. Spencer just got so sick, and there was nothing she could do.

Somehow, Mrs. Fields steers her upstairs, and Emily finds herself on her bed. Mrs. Fields is gently easing off her shoes. “You’re going to have a little nap, Em, and then we’ll feed you and Spencer.” She places Emily’s sneakers beside the bed and gently pushes her so that Emily is lying back on the mattress.

Somewhere in Emily’s brain, she knows that she should be undressing herself, but it seems easier to just lie back and let her mother take off her pants and socks. But she does open her eyes when Mrs. Fields stops undressing her and starts fishing around in Emily’s dresser drawer.

“What are you doing, Mom?” Emily looks confused and sits up. Her mother is taking out one of the diapers Emily used to use at night. 

Emily feels confused. She hasn’t had an accident, has she? She hasn’t had an accident in more than six months, and that was because she had waited too long to get to the bathroom, not because she didn’t realize she had to go. Mrs. Fields straightens up and looks Emily in the eye.

“Sweetie, I think just in case, I’m going to put you in a diaper while you nap today. I don’t want you to have any accidents because you’re so tired.” 

Emily shakes her head weakly. “No, Mom. I’m fine.”

“Emily, you have wet the bed before when you’re really exhausted. Now, let’s not argue. It’s just in case.” Mrs. Fields stares Emily down until the tired girl finally nods, wincing. She doesn’t have the energy to argue.

Mrs. Fields then removes Emily’s panties and fastens a diaper around her. “There. Now we’ll get your pajamas on and you can get to sleep.”

Emily doesn’t argue then. She isn’t happy about being diapered, but hopefully nothing will happen. It is minimally less embarrassing than wetting the bed, she supposes. Mrs. Fields puts on a warm, soft pair of pajamas, and suddenly, Emily is overcome with exhaustion again. Her face screws up and turning over onto her side, she begins to rub her eyes, whimpering.

“Shh, shh.” Emily’s mother sits beside her on the bed and begins to rub her daughter’s back. “Just relax. Everything is okay, sweetie. Go to sleep.”

Emily is almost asleep when she hears a fit of coughing through the open door of her room. Mrs. Fields looks up.

“Spencer’s awake, I think. I’ll go and check on her.” She kisses her daughter’s forehead. “Just call me if you need me, okay? Sleep well.”

Emily watches her mother leave the room, her lower lip trembling. Her mother couldn’t even sit with her until she fell asleep? Turning her face into her pillow, she tries to shuck off the jealous feelings, but can’t help a few tears from falling, anyway, before she falls asleep.

//~//

Spencer wakes up, coughing as usual. Her cough is starting to loosen, though, and she doesn’t feel the rush of heat and weakness that has accompanied her coughing fits in the past. She rubs her eyes, anyway, and whimpers a bit hoarsely. She’s thirsty and wet, and she isn’t exactly sure why she’s in Emily’s spare room.

As if on cue, Mrs. Fields comes into the room, holding a glass of water. “Hi, Spence. You didn’t sleep very long, sweetie.”

“Thirsty,” whimpers Spencer, and then feels awkward and a bit embarrassed. She’s imposing on these people. She tries to straighten up and find her maturity, but Mrs. Fields is already stroking Spencer’s curls back from her forehead.

“Fever’s gone down, good,” she murmurs, and holds the glass to Spencer’s lips. “Sorry, Spencer. Emily doesn’t use bottles anymore so we don’t have any in the house. Are you okay with drinking from a glass? Your bottle is in the dishwasher right now.”

Spencer nods, a little eagerly. She can act her age. But as soon as she sips from the glass, she starts to cough, and spits up water onto her pajama shirt. Great.

“Sorry,” she whispers, and Mrs. Fields just smiles. 

“Don’t worry about it, sweetheart. It happens. Slowly, now.” She holds the glass up again, and Spencer drinks more slowly this time, trying not to gulp the water thirstily. The cool water feels amazing against her sore throat, and she manages to drain most of the glass before wanting to lie back down. She turns her face away and Mrs. Fields smiles.

“Good girl.”

Spencer curls back up in the comfortable bed and tries not to think about the fact that she needs her diaper changed. Before, Emily, or Mrs. Fields, or whoever was looking after her just knew she was wet. Mrs. Fields is about to leave the room, though, and Spencer somehow has to tell her this very embarrassing thing, on top of all the other embarrassing things that have happened today. It just feels like overload. She starts to whimper without knowing it, and Mrs. Fields turns back from where she’s about to go out of the room.

“Are you okay, sweetie?”

Spencer picks at the blankets and refuses to look Emily’s mother in the eye. “Um . . .”

Mrs. Fields comes to sit beside Spencer on the bed again and rubs her back. “Something wrong?”

Spencer squirms a little uncomfortably, hoping Emily’s mother will get the message, but she just continues to rub Spencer’s back until Spencer whispers the problem.

“Um . . . I’m wet,” she says, her voice barely audible, and her cheeks flushing bright red.

Mrs. Fields laughs. “Is that it? I wondered why you were acting so shy.” She chucks Spencer under the chin. “That’s no problem. We’ll get you fixed right up. Next time, just tell me. It’s okay.” Her voice is gentle, and it helps, but Spencer can’t help but blush at the thought of having to say it right out loud.

The diaper change is minimally less embarrassing, but Spencer still hides her face behind her hands, and Mrs. Fields is quick and thorough without saying much of anything.   
Spencer is glad of it – her own mother would have shamed her for not at least trying to get to the toilet, even though she can barely walk.

Suddenly, the need for home overwhelms her. As Mrs. Fields is pulling up Spencer’s pajama pants, Spencer suddenly begins to cry, her hoarse voice surprising her. Emily’s mother finishes dressing Spencer and then pumps some hand sanitizer into her hands from the bottle on the bedside table. When her hands are clean, she holds out her arms for the sobbing girl.

It feels good to be hugged and cuddled closely, but Spencer just wishes it was her own mother rocking her, stroking her hair and holding her close. 

“Mommy . . .” she whispers, and Mrs. Fields nods.

“We’re going to try them again, sweetie. Hopefully you can get home this morning. But I’d really like you to try to sleep some more. I’ll leave a glass of water beside your bed. If you need some help, give me a call and I’ll come and help you.” She brushes a hand over Spencer’s soft hair and smiles. “You’re going to start feeling better soon.”

Mrs. Fields carefully positions Spencer back in bed, but Spencer doesn’t want her to leave just yet. She clings to the covers and hopes miserably that Mrs. Fields will decide to stay with her a little bit longer. It’s rare she gets the type of attention that Emily’s mother seems so naturally capable of giving. To have her own mother there for as much as Mrs. Fields has been over the past few hours would require Spencer to be on her deathbed, she thinks ruefully.

Mrs. Fields doesn’t leave. She starts to rub Spencer’s back in slow, calming strokes. Spencer closes her eyes and her thumb finds her mouth. Mrs. Fields begins to hum in a low, soothing voice and Spencer drifts off to sleep again.

//~//

Hours pass. Emily has strange dreams. Lots of them involve her fumbling for her phone in desperation because Spencer needs help. Spencer is sick and Emily needs her mother to come and take care of her. Emily thrashes around in bed a few times, whimpering, until Mr. Fields, passing her open doorway, stops and gently rubs his daughter’s back. Emily calms, still asleep, and her father slips away.

When Emily wakes up, the sunshine is streaming through the west windows in her bedroom and the back of her neck feels sweaty. Groggily, she rubs her eyes and yawns. It must be at least 1 or 2 in the afternoon. She moves uncomfortably and hears a crinkling sound. Oh, right. The diaper.

It takes less than a second before Emily suddenly realizes why she’s so uncomfortable. Her hands clap to the crotch of her pajamas and her face flushes a bright, deep red. Oh, no. No, no, no.

Before she can move, though, Mrs. Fields comes into the room, her face apprehensive. She relaxes when she sees Emily’s awake, though. “Hi, sweetheart. Do you feel any better?”  
Emily just stays, frozen, in bed, and Mrs. Fields’ face creases in concern. “What’s wrong, Em?”

“Um,” gulps Emily, not wanting to admit to the problem. “I just had a bad dream, I guess.” Her voice sounds rusty, and Mrs. Fields comes to sit on the edge of Emily’s bed. She holds open her arms, and Emily, after a moment and an internal struggle not to cry, crawls into them.

“Are you sure that’s all?” Her mother’s voice is soft and sympathetic, and Emily keeps her face buried in her mother’s shoulder, unable to keep the tears from starting. Mrs. Fields strokes her hair.

“Oh, sweetie. Shh. Did you have an accident? Is that why you’re upset?”

Emily nods against her mother, and then lets out a big sob. “I feel so stupid,” she whimpers.

Mrs. Fields rocks her daughter back and forth. “Shh. It’s nothing to feel stupid about. You were very tired and very upset. It could happen to anyone.”

Emily shakes her head. “Spencer does this,” she says, her voice growing harsh. “I don’t do this. I’m past this.”

“Emily,” soothes Mrs. Fields, stroking her hair. “It’s not about that. You aren’t a baby because this happened. And anyone can have an accident. Shh.”

Emily sniffles against her mother’s shoulder, but Mrs. Fields’ attention is drawn away when a round of coughing breaks out from downstairs. Emily follows her mother’s gaze and frowns.

“Is Spencer still here?”

“Yes. Poor girl. Her parents don’t seem to be answering the phone. We did get hold of her sister, but she said that no one would be home to take care of Spencer today, as they all had to go into Philly. So she’s downstairs on the couch for now.”

Emily sighs. She was hoping Spencer would go home so that she didn’t have to watch her mother scurry to take care of her. She does care about Spencer, of course, but . . . she wants her family back to normal. She wasn’t cut out for siblings.

Mrs. Fields gets up, gently disentangling Emily from her arms. “I’m going to go check on Spencer, okay, sweetie? Can you get fixed up by yourself, or do you need me to change you?”

Emily flushes. “I guess I’m okay,” she mumbles, though a part of her does want her mother to change her and then maybe make her some lunch. Before she can say that, though, Mrs. Fields is gone.

Emily curls back up in bed, wincing at her wet diaper, and pouts. She wants Spencer to go home. Now.

//~//

Spencer is curled up on the couch downstairs, a silly soap opera on TV in front of her, and her thumb in her mouth. Emily’s mother is trying to convince her to eat.

“I know you’re not hungry, Spence, but you’re never going to get better unless you have a little something. Emily will be down soon. I made you two some chicken soup.”

Spencer pouts. “I’m not hungry, though. Thank you anyway,” she tries to finish politely, but Mrs. Fields just sighs, a little in exasperation.

“I’m going to give you some soup anyway, sweetie. You need to eat.” She turns her back stubbornly on Spencer and marches back into the sunny kitchen, where the savoury smell of soup is drifting out the door. Emily’s house is so bright and cheerful, so unlike Spencer’s mausoleum of a mansion.

Emily comes downstairs, her face in a scowl. Spencer turns her head to see Emily stomping down the main staircase, and she breaks into a tired smile.

“Hi, Em.”

“Hi,” mumbles Emily, rubbing her eyes a bit. She completely ignores Spencer then, and walks into the kitchen.

“Mom, I’m hungry,” she whines a bit, very uncharacteristically. Mrs. Fields, already frustrated, barely turns around.

“Emily, honey, I’m busy. Spencer refuses to eat and honestly, I have been calling her parents constantly since lunchtime and finally got her mother. She had no idea Spencer was even sick! She asked me to watch her until they can get home tonight. And having you whining at me doesn’t help, you know.”

Emily’s lower lip trembles. Now she’s a big pain when it’s Spencer taking up all her mother’s attention? Emily turns on her heel and stomps back out the kitchen door.

Spencer is curled up on the couch, with Emily’s favourite afghan blanket over her legs, sucking her thumb, her eyes tired. Suddenly, Emily fairly hates Spencer, though the poor girl hasn’t really done anything wrong.

“Listen, you need to stop fighting my mother on food, Spence. Just eat, okay? She’s exhausted and she’s made chicken soup from scratch. You need to just eat it and give her a break.” Emily’s voice is harsh, a lot harsher than Spencer’s ever heard it. Spencer’s mouth opens and closes, and her dark eyes grow wide and hurt.

Emily huffs an exasperated sigh. “We have to watch you until tonight. Your parents won’t be home until then. You could make it easier on everyone, you know. It’s a lot on my parents to keep you.”

Spencer’s lower lip begins to wobble, but she doesn’t say anything until Emily finishes her tirade. Then she whispers, “I’m sorry, Emily. I can just go home now if it will help. I’m sure the housekeeper will be home if I get worse again.”

She gets up on shaky feet and stumbles forward, holding onto the arm of the couch. Her face drains of colour, but she breathes for a moment and then walks slowly towards the front hall. Emily feels briefly bad, but she simply watches Spencer go without trying to stop her.

Emily’s mother bustles back out of the kitchen just in time to see Spencer fall heavily to her knees, her hands slapping onto the ceramic tile with a sickening cracking noise. She gasps.

“Spencer! Why are you up? You’re much, much too weak to even be trying to walk without help right now. This flu is going around and it’s horrible, I just got off the phone with Mrs. Green from the church. Apparently half the Sunday school class has it.”

Her eyes fly up to Emily. “Em, did you let her get up?”

“I told her she needs to stop being difficult,” says Emily magnanimously. “You have enough to do without her making life harder.”

Mrs. Fields looks shocked. Spencer, on the tile, begins to cry, her voice sounding tired and hopeless.

Emily’s mother kneels down beside Spencer and gathers her into her arms. “Shh, honey, it’s okay. Are you hurt?”

Spencer sniffles and tries to pull herself together. “No,” she whimpers. Her hands hurt a little and she knows she’ll have bruises on her knees, but otherwise she’s fine. And she’s causing trouble. She needs to pull herself together. She rubs a hand across her face. 

“I’m fine,” she says, her voice stronger, and then tries to get up on her own. Emily stares at her impassively.

“Em, you could give her a hand. I don’t know what has gotten into you!” Mrs. Fields sounds annoyed. “And are your pants still wet?” Carefully placing Spencer back on the couch, she marches over to Emily and checks her diaper through the seat of her pajama pants.

Emily is gobsmacked at this turn of events. She just freezes in complete embarrassment. The truth is, she’d forgotten totally about her wet diaper.

“You didn’t change?” Mrs. Fields just stares at her daughter and then sighs heavily. “What is wrong with you right now, Emily?”

Emily doesn’t say anything for a moment, but then Spencer sneezes, and she turns on her.

“SHE’S what’s wrong!” Emily’s voice rises. “I know she can’t help being sick, but she just needs and needs and needs, and I just want her to leave!”

Spencer’s face grows dark and angry. “I WANT to leave!” she cries, her hoarse voice rising. “I know I’m being a big pain. I was trying to go home. And then I fell down. But trust me, I don’t want to be here any more than you want me to be,” she spits, more tears running down her cheeks. “I know you hate me being here.”

“Honey, that’s not true!” Mrs. Fields comes to sit beside Spencer on the couch. “Emily is very tired, and –”

Emily just nods. “I don’t want her here anymore. Can’t you take her home? She does have a housekeeper who can watch her.”

Mrs. Fields’ face grows furious. “EMILY. That is quite enough. You, young lady, can go to your room. Spencer, you’re not going anywhere.”

Leaving Spencer on the couch, she marches over to her daughter and turns her around to face the stairs, pushing her lightly in that direction. “Go. I am disgusted by your behaviour.”

Emily stomps up the stairs and when she gets to her bedroom, slams the door and throws herself face down on the bed. 

Everything sucks, and she feels awful about her behaviour. When is this nightmare going to stop?


	6. Chapter 6

After about 15 minutes, Emily’s stormy crying ends. She feels a little ridiculous. What has gotten into her?

Sitting up on her bed, she wipes her eyes and frowns. Usually she isn’t this silly about anything, and certainly not emotional. Could she be getting Spencer’s flu or something? Checking her own forehead for a fever, she feels nothing but her own warm skin, the same as it usually feels. 

Just then, she hears footsteps on the stairs, and she quickly lies down again, staring stonily at the ceiling. There’s a soft knock on her door, and Mrs. Field’s voice comes through.

“Emily, I want to talk to you, please. Open the door.”

Emily sighs. She knows she deserves a stern talking-to, but . . . she doesn’t really want to open the door and have to confront her silly behaviour. She waits a minute, trying to decide what to do, when her mother knocks again, this time a little more firmly.

“Emily. I don’t know what’s gotten into you, but I’m not happy with your behaviour. Please open the door. Now.”

Emily knows that tone. Sighing again, she pushes herself off the bed, wincing at the cold feeling of her wet diaper against her skin, and opens the door. Her mother walks in, frowning.

“Spencer’s asleep on the couch, so I figured now was a good time to come up and see what is going on with you.” Mrs. Fields sits on the bed. “Come and sit down, please.”

Emily sits silently, not daring to disobey her mother again. She pulls her legs up underneath her and winces again, something that doesn’t go unnoticed by Mrs. Fields. Her mother opens her mouth to scold Emily again, likely for not changing, and then just closes her mouth.

“Honey, do you need to be changed? It’s extremely unlike you not to clean up when you’ve had an accident.”

Emily had vowed to be mature and rational, the way she normally is, but she feels a sudden lump in her throat and tears pricking behind her eyes again. Looking carefully at her comforter, not trusting her voice, she nods.

Mrs. Fields’ voice is soft. “Lie down, then.”

It’s been at least two years since her mother has changed her. Emily trained quickly and insisted on doing everything herself, so the brief awkwardness of getting into position, raising her hips at the right moment, and everything else is strange at first. But Emily quickly gets back into the routine, and when her mother turns to get a fresh pair of panties out of her dresser drawer, Emily stops her.

“Mom . . . I think I want to wear a diaper.” Emily flushes bright red as she says this, refusing to look her mother in the eye. Mrs. Fields’ eyebrows rise, but she doesn’t say anything, simply moving to the bottom drawer and fishing out one of Emily’s old diapers.

The soft diaper feels good, and Mrs. Fields hisses a little under her breath before she tapes Emily into it. “I don’t know if we still have any of the zinc cream I used on you when you used to get diaper rashes. I might have to make do with Vaseline. You’re getting a little rash, sweetie. I don’t want it to get worse.”

Emily feels faintly surprised. A diaper rash? It makes sense, based on how long she had stubbornly sat in a wet diaper, but it feels strange to think of herself with one after so long. “I don’t know, Mom,” she says, not knowing what to say, and Mrs. Fields pats her leg.

“I’ll go and get some Vaseline. Stay there,” she says, a little unnecessarily, since Emily has no intention of moving. That’s when Emily realizes that this might be awkward for her mother, too.

After Emily’s rash is treated and she’s re-diapered, Mrs. Fields leaves again to wash her hands and Emily sits cross-legged on her bed, wondering what her punishment will be for being so mean to Spencer. She does feel badly about it . . . poor Spencer is sick, and it’s hardly her fault that her parents could really not care less about her. But it’s hard to watch her mother look after another girl, especially one that’s everything Emily isn’t always – affectionate, needy, and cuddly.

When Mrs. Fields comes back, she quietly closes the door behind her and joins Emily on the bed. There are no words for a few minutes, until Mrs. Fields puts her arms around her daughter.

“I can’t tell if you’re tired, sick, or just jealous – or maybe it’s a little of all three. Why don’t you tell me what’s going on, sweetheart?”

And Emily starts to cry. This time, it’s not something she’s trying to hide or to stifle. She simply leans against her mom and sobs.

“Shh, sweetheart. Oh, Emily. Shh.” Her mother strokes Emily’s long dark hair and cuddles her close. “I’m sorry you’ve had such a rough day, baby.”

Emily doesn’t suck her thumb, and never did – she preferred to use a pacifier when she was younger – but she gave all those up when she transitioned from diapers to panties a year ago. This is the first time in a long time that she’s wanted one. Her mother watches Emily’s lips make an unconscious sucking motion and chuckles a little bit.

“I’m sorry that we don’t have any pacis, sweetie. But you kept saying you were too big, and I guess you really haven’t wanted one until now, anyway.” She rubs Emily’s back and snuggles her for a little while longer, until she hears Spencer begin to cough from downstairs.

“Anyway, I came up to talk to you about your behaviour, but I think it might be due to the fact that Spencer is here, hmm?”

Emily nods, feeling a bit sheepish, and definitely limp and warm and comfortable in her mother’s arms. “I know she’s sick, but . . . you’re my mom,” she murmurs, and Mrs. Fields kisses the top of her head.

“I’m always going to be your mom and no one else’s,” she reminds Emily. “But Spencer needs someone to look after her right now. She’s not as big as you are, and she’s very sick right now, too. I thought you understood that, and I think you do, but I guess I didn’t count on my big girl needing to be little sometimes, too.” She smiles down at Emily, and Emily smiles back, feeling embarrassed and understood and so, so happy.

Spencer coughs again, and this time there’s a whimper at the end of the cough. Emily detaches from her mother. “We’d better go downstairs and see how Spencer is,” she says, and her mother smiles, a hint of pride in her expression.

“Yes. I think we’d better. I left her down there all by herself. And Emily,” she calls to her daughter, just before Emily is about to open the bedroom door, “I think you owe Spencer an apology for your behaviour earlier.”

Emily blushes and nods. She’ll be surprised if Spencer wants to speak to her ever again after this. She looks uncertain and a bit nervous, and Mrs. Fields comes up beside her and takes her hand.

“I think Spencer knows you didn’t mean it,” she reassures Emily. “But I think you’d better tell her you didn’t, because she was pretty upset after you went upstairs.”

Emily feels badly then. Poor Spencer, first so sick and now thinking that her best friend hates her for being here. She slips down the stairs quietly, her bare feet making almost no noise on the stair runner, and comes into the living room where Spencer is sitting uncomfortably on the couch, a pout on her face and her water glass empty in front of her.

Spencer looks up at Emily’s entrance, and then her face closes, and she turns away from Emily. Emily sighs.

“Spence, I’m sorry. I was being a brat and you didn’t deserve it. I was jealous and stupid and I’m sorry that I was mean to you.” Emily’s voice starts out steady, but wobbles dangerously at the end, and Spencer looks up at her, her face less stony.

“I know that I’m taking up a lot of your mother’s time,” she says, her voice hoarse and raspy. “I really am sorry. I’d give anything to be home, Emily. I really would. I don’t know why my mother wouldn’t come home right away but she was mad at me, and I am really sorry I have to be here . . .” Spencer’s voice trails off and she starts to cry.

Emily comes and sits down beside Spencer, putting an arm around the shaking girl. “No. I’m sorry that I was mean about that. It’s not your fault. My mom doesn’t understand your parents, either. And we’re all happy to have you here. Even me. Even when I get jealous,” she insists, and Spencer laughs a little bit through her tears.

“I don’t want you to resent me,” she whispers, and Emily gives her a hug.

“I don’t. I was being stupid. I was tired and maybe coming down with your flu and there were other things . . .”

“Like you had an accident,” states Spencer bluntly, and looks slightly interested even as Emily blushes. “That’s really unlike you. I don’t think I ever remember you having an accident before.”

“Well, it sometimes happens,” replies Emily uncomfortably, and Spencer nods. They sit in silence for a moment, and Emily shifts a little. “I decided I’d better wear a diaper today.”

“Really?” Spencer doesn’t know what to do with this information, it seems, and shifts a little uncomfortably herself. “When’s the last time you wore one?”

“I was sick, about six months ago. I didn’t want to make a mess or anything.”

“Are you sure that you’re okay, Emily?” Spencer’s voice is abrupt. Emily blinks a little in surprise. 

“Yeah, why?”

“Well, you don’t wear diapers. Ever. And you don’t throw tantrums, or say things like that . . . and I’m just wondering if my being here is causing you to regress or something. I mean, we know I regress all the time, so I can’t really talk, but you doing it is a bit weird.”

Mrs. Fields’ voice cuts in. “It is strange, Spencer, you’re right. And it is unlike Emily. But she’s an only child, and I think she might be a little bit jealous.” She comes over and sits beside the girls, and gathers her daughter to her. Emily accepts the affection without complaint, which is also strange to Spencer. Usually Emily struggles to get away from her mother’s hugs and kisses in front of her friends.

“And that’s okay, but what’s not okay is being mean to you. I’m sorry that the incident happened this afternoon, and I hope you girls can get along the rest of the time that Spencer is here.”

Emily nods quickly. “I won’t be mean again. I’m sorry, Spence.”

Spencer smiles a little bit. “It’s okay, Em. I get it now. I’m sorry I have to be here and take up all your mother’s time.”

With that, Mrs. Fields gives Emily a kiss and then gently detaches from her to go to Spencer. “I think you’re wet, sweetie, and I can see you need more water. Em, can you go to the kitchen and get Spencer some more water?”

Emily hops up happily. “Okay, Mom.”

//~//

The sun is beginning to set over the neighbourhood when Spencer, who is getting tired of lying on the couch and alternately watching Netflix and the front window, sees a car pull into her home’s driveway. Her dad gets out and starts to type the code for the gate, and Spencer heaves herself off the couch and shakily makes her way to the window to wave to him.

“Daddy!” she calls, though he won’t be able to hear her through the closed window. Fumbling her way back to the couch, she finds her cell phone and finds her dad’s number in her contact list. 

He answers on the second ring. “Hi, Spence. I just got in.”

“I know, Daddy. Are you going to come over and get me?”

He sounds surprised. “I didn’t know you weren’t at home. Don’t tell me you’ve been imposing on the Fields family all day?”

Spencer bites her lip and replies, sounding a bit deflated. He hasn’t asked her how she feels or anything. “I’m really sick,” she tries to explain. “Mrs. Fields didn’t want me to go home by myself.”

“Well, Spence, the housekeeper is here. I think Elsa could have looked after you today while we were out. You didn’t need to spend all day over there, monopolizing Mrs. Fields’ time.” He sighs heavily. “Come on home now and I’ll make you a cup of tea, okay?”

Spencer’s eyes fill with tears at his annoyed, dismissive tone. “I don’t think I can walk that far,” she murmurs, and her father’s voice crackles over the line.

“What do you mean? It’s across the backyard, Spence, I don’t think there’s anything wrong with your legs. Come on, champ. Time to buck up. You’re not broken. Come on back and I’ll tell you about the case I’m working on in Philly.”

With that, he hangs up.

Spencer starts to cry. She can’t walk across the lawn without falling at least once. She couldn’t even walk without Emily supporting her to the dining room for dinner (more chicken and rice soup, which she managed half a bowl of, and a piece of toast).

Emily wanders in. “Spence? What’s wrong?” She comes over to sit beside Spencer on the couch and gives her a hug. 

“My dad’s home,” Spencer tries to explain through her tears. “He’s not happy I stayed over here all day. He wants me to come home.”

Emily rubs Spencer’s shoulders. “Okay, well, you wanted to go home all day, remember,” she reminds Spencer, who looks frustrated. “What’s really wrong?”

“He won’t come and get me. He told me to walk home. But I can’t, Emily, and I don’t want to ask your dad to carry me . . .”

Emily nods in understanding. “I’ll get my mom to call him. Just a sec, okay? Sit tight.”

But the conversation that Mrs. Fields has with Mr. Hastings doesn’t go well, either. 

“Peter, she’s not well. I had to have Wayne carry her to our house this morning. I suspect she has the flu that’s going around right now . . . Well, I don’t think she’s able to walk home. No, I don’t think she’s playing it up, she’s very sick . . . Peter, please listen to me. I would really prefer if you or Veronica came over to get her. I am not comfortable having her walk across the lawn alone and in the dark, and I don’t want Emily out at this time either, she’s not feeling well herself . . . No, I’m afraid that Wayne isn’t available to take her back, either. I don’t feel like you’re hearing me . . . Peter, please!”

There’s a long silence, and then Mrs. Fields’s voice is stony. “I will walk her home, then. I must say, I’m a little surprised at you, Peter. She’s your daughter, for God’s sake. Yes. I’ll bring her now. Goodbye.”

Spencer covers her face with her hands, and Mrs. Fields sits down beside her and gives her a hug. “Don’t worry about it, sweetie. I’m not sure why he’s being stubborn, but he says your mother is home now. They’re waiting for you. I’ll walk you home, okay?”

Emily quickly gets together a bag of diapers and Mrs. Fields puts a container of the chicken soup in the bag for Spencer. “Just in case your appetite comes back later tonight,” she says cheerily, and Spencer smiles. This family is so unlike her own. They actually . . . care.

Emily gives Spencer a hug goodbye at the door after Mrs. Fields changes Spencer and bundles her up against the early spring cold. “Give me a call when you get settled at home, okay?”

“Okay,” Spencer murmurs, and hugs Emily one more time before leaning on Mrs. Fields’ shoulder and walking out the front door of Emily’s home.

They manage to get to Spencer’s door, even though the very effort has Spencer shaking and sweating with effort. The walk is long and Spencer has to rest a few times. By the time her father opens the door, Spencer just wants to lie down and sleep forever. Her cough is harsh and hacking, and Mr. Hastings looks a little sheepish and concerned as Mrs. Fields helps Spencer to the couch beside her mother.

“Ah. I guess she really isn’t feeling well,” he says, his voice a bit tentative, and Mrs. Fields appears to barely restrain her contempt as she replies.

“No, she isn’t feeling well at all. She’s been very ill all night and most of today. I suspect she will be for a few more days. I gave her Advil Cold and Sinus for her fever about three hours ago, so she’s going to need it again soon. I’ve left the bottle in this bag. She had some dinner not too long ago, but I imagine she’ll be thirsty after her walk. I also changed her just before we came over, so unless something happened between now and then, she should be okay for a while, hey, Spence?”

Spencer wishes Mrs. Fields wouldn’t talk about the diapers in front of her parents. She barely nods, but tries to smile at Emily’s mother, anyway. “Thank you for looking after me, Mrs. Fields,” she says, her voice quiet, and Spencer’s mother speaks up, too.

“Yes, thank you. It was very good of you to take Spencer on today while we were away. Thank you for keeping her all day, though she really could have come home this afternoon, I think.”

“No, I think she was better where she was,” says Mrs. Fields, and then after winking at Spencer, leaves the house.

Spencer lies back against the couch pillows, her eyes closing in exhaustion. Her parents are going to ask a million questions, and she can’t stay awake for them. Her pale, sweaty face is illuminated in the light from the fire, and she feels her mother start to rub her feet.

“Peter, she is really sick. Just look at her.”

Spencer opens her eyes to see her dad crouch down beside her. “I’m sorry, champ. I guess we’ve been pretty hard on you. I’m sorry I didn’t come and get you.”

Spencer just shrugs. She knows their apologies will be short-lived. But after a moment, she looks at her dad. “I don’t always try to get attention. I don’t try to, even most of the time. You seem to think I’m someone that’s awful and lying, and I don’t get it. I really don’t. I try so hard, you know.”

Her voice isn’t even emotional, which surprises Spencer. She’s just so tired that she doesn’t care anymore.

Mr. Hastings strokes back Spencer’s hair. “I think we just want you to do your best. Maybe we don’t always notice how hard you try.”

“We love you, Spence. We just want you to be the best you can be.” Mrs. Hastings adds.

“I know,” Spencer replies in the same emotionless voice. “And right now I just can’t talk about it anymore.” She looks at her mother. “I just want to go to sleep, Mom. I can’t make it to the bathroom, so please don’t ask me to try. Emily’s mother brought over some diapers. I know you’re going to hate it, but I just don’t care anymore.”

Mrs. Hastings looks a bit taken aback, and Mr. Hastings stands up, picking up his daughter in his arms easily. “I think we can shelve that conversation until you feel better, honey. Veronica, why don’t you go upstairs and get Spencer’s bed ready for her?”

Mrs. Hastings nods and climbs the stairs, Spencer’s father following her. Spencer hasn’t been carried by her father for about a year. It feels good to just lean against his shoulder and not have to worry about anything for now.

Melissa appears from her room as the family gets to the top of the stairs, but she doesn’t say anything after Mrs. Hastings shakes her head firmly. After Mr. Hastings places Spencer on her bed, he kisses her forehead and leaves the room.

Mrs. Hastings strokes Spencer’s hair. “Honey, why didn’t you tell me you weren’t feeling well yesterday?”

“Because you were so mad at me,” says Spencer, emotion now creeping into her voice. “And I just didn’t feel like having another fight with you about everything. And I didn’t know I was going to get as sick as I did. Emily and her mom looked after me all night and today. We called and called, but you were busy and I guess meetings are more important.”

Mrs. Hastings looks upset, an emotion that Spencer has rarely seen on her face. “Of course they’re not. If I had known earlier, I could have rescheduled them and stayed home with you today.”

“Well, Mom, I don’t know that you would have wanted to. And I did want you,” Spencer’s voice cracks as she tries to explain. “I needed my mom. I threw up and I made a mess in my pants and I was really, really sick . . .” Spencer begins to cry.

“Oh, honey.” Mrs. Hastings cuddles her daughter close. “I’m sorry.”

Spencer sniffles against her mother’s shoulder and starts to cough. At the same time, she realizes that her diaper is wet. This surprises her – usually she knows when she’s wetting.

“I’m here now,” says Mrs. Hastings, rubbing her daughter’s back in slow, soothing strokes. “Shh. It’s time for your medicine anyway, I think.”

“I’m wet,” says Spencer, not even caring if her mother will suddenly change her tune. “I’m wet, Mommy, and I’m thirsty, and I’m tired.” She leans back from her mother, and screws her fists into her eyes. “I’m so tired.”

“Okay, sweetie.” Mrs. Hastings lays her daughter down and rubs her tummy soothingly. “It’s okay.”

And for the first time, Spencer thinks that maybe, it just might be.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For everyone who wanted more of this story - and for the many people who begged me for baby!Aria, here you go!

Spencer's illness hangs on longer than expected, mostly because she's so stressed most of the time. Her parents, after the first night of making sure she got her medicine on time and stayed clean and dry, mostly gave up the warm and fuzzy act after the second day of Spencer being home. After all, the housekeeper's there. And as nice as Elsa is, and as much as Spencer wants to take comfort from her warm arms and gentle voice, Elsa isn't her mother, and Elsa can't give Spencer the comfort she's looking for. Knowing that Mrs. Fields is a stay-at-home mom, Spencer almost wishes that she could go back over there, even if it means that Emily would be jealous of her. At least Mrs. Fields didn't mind cuddling Spencer when her cough got too bad, or when she felt lonely and weepy.

Elsa now puts a hand on Spencer's forehead and breathes a sigh. "Oh, honey. That fever just won't stay down."

Spencer had seen the doctor, but he'd diagnosed her with a particularly virulent flu ("The same one the Sunday school has, Mrs. Fields said," Mrs. Hastings had said when she heard the news) and said that fluids, rest, and time would be the only healers. Spencer doesn't feel as bad as she had a few days ago - she can sit up for longer periods of time and is taking interest in Netflix and reading again. But she doesn't feel a hundred percent, either, and she knows she's entering the tired, cranky stage of her illness. She tosses her head irritably on the pillow and knows, rather than sees, that Elsa is smiling down in amusement.

"We'll give you some more Advil. And then I'm sure you must be thirsty, and maybe a little hungry. It's getting to be just about lunch time."

Spencer tries to smile politely. After all, it's not Elsa's job to be her nursemaid, and Spencer is glad she's there. It's better than trying to muddle along alone, especially since she's now regressed almost totally and can't tell when she's wet. Embarrassingly, Spencer has also had a few dirty diapers - mostly because she wasn't paying attention at the time. Also even more embarrassingly, she doesn't mind really when the dirty diapers happen. Elsa was mostly the one to deal with them, and she hadn't said anything at all, except that Spencer should tell her when it happens because she's getting a rash. And she didn't tell Mrs. Hastings, either.

So, Spencer wants to love Elsa. She wants to accept the comfort, and the way that Elsa is willing to rock her for a few moments before her nap, and the way that Elsa doesn't mind holding her when she gives Spencer her bottle. These are all things that Spencer wants. But that niggling feeling at the back of her mind tells her that she shouldn't want this comfort. She also shouldn't get used to it, because her parents will be angry when she's the only 16-year-old in school still pooping her pants.

That really does have to stop, thinks Spencer, but at the very thought, a wave of exhaustion breaks over her. Her lower lip starts to tremble, which isn't missed by Elsa. She smooths a hand over Spencer's forehead, which feels good. Spencer nuzzles into Elsa's hand before she realizes what she's doing.

The older woman smiles at that. "I think you're tired, aren't you, sweetie?" She slips a hand under the covers to pat Spencer's padded bottom. "And you're wet. Why don't we get you changed and you can have a little nap before lunch? We need you to have the strength to eat in order to get better."

Spencer nods and offers a shy smile. Elsa really does try so hard. Spencer knows she should be a little less shy with her. And certainly, her own mother doesn't seem to care enough to stay home with her or to make sure she's comfortable like this. At that thought, Spencer's lip trembles again, but Elsa is busy changing her diaper and doesn't notice.

When Spencer is settled and Elsa's washed her hands, Elsa comes back with a bottle of warm chamomile tea with honey to help Spencer's cough. Settling Spencer comfortably on her ample lap, she smiles down at her as she feeds Spencer the warm tea. It does help, thinks Spencer. Her throat does feel less scratchy and sore, and the warmth of the drink makes her, if possible, even sleepier. 

Since the doctor had insisted on Spencer taking as many fluids as she could handle (which also meant that more often than not, her diaper was wet), Mr. and Mrs. Hastings had begrudgingly broke down and bought a few glass bottles for Spencer while she was sick, with the proviso that "when you're better, you're to give them up immediately, do you hear, young lady?" And Spencer had been feeling better in the last day or so, partly because she wasn't constantly dehydrating herself to stop from wetting all the time.

Spencer finishes her bottle and Elsa gently sits her up, patting her back. After a burp (which Spencer is still a little embarrassed about, but let Elsa do it her own way), Elsa snuggles the tired girl into her ample arms and chest, humming an old Eastern European lullaby. Spencer's eyes slip closed, blissfully.

Maybe Elsa is the person who can take care of her the way she needs.

//~//

Some time later, after Spencer wakes up from her nap and has her lunch, which Elsa insisted on spoon-feeding her, she moves downstairs to the couch for awhile to watch some Netflix and try to catch up on her school assignments. Looking at the hundreds of little dancing letters on a page still makes Spencer a little dizzy and tired, so she takes long breaks between her readings to try to rest before moving on. An hour or so passes before she hears the back door open and her mother's and Melissa's bright, loud voices enter the room and straight through Spencer's aching head.

Melissa immediately spots her sister on the couch, but instead of sneering, she pastes on a fake concerned look. "Spence, should you really be out of bed, and on the new couch with just a diaper and PJ pants on? I'm sure Mom and Dad wouldn't want you to ruin it."

Mrs. Veronica Hastings is shucking off her coat and draping it over one of the barstools in the open concept kitchen. "Melissa's right, Spence. Honey, I'm not trying to be mean, but I don't really want to pay for upholstery cleaning if you leak." 

Spencer doesn't say anything, but she places her book on the coffee table and makes a slow and concentrated effort to rise. She gets dizzy if she gets up too fast, and she's still a little unsteady on her feet. Just then, Elsa bustles in, and looks properly horrified at the idea of Spencer up, standing unsteadily on her once-skinny, now-spindly legs, in the throes of a coughing attack.

"No, honey. You need to sit down before you pass out." Elsa's no-nonsense voice stops even Veronica in her tracks. "You should not be standing when you're still a little dizzy. Maybe in another day or so."

"Elsa, I really don't want her on that couch when she's sick and regressed," says Veronica in a reasonable tone. "Not unless you put a towel down or something. Her bed has waterproof sheeting on it. I'd prefer her up there while she's in diapers full-time."

"Well, Mrs. Hastings, I just changed her about twenty minutes ago, so, she's not going to leak on the new upholstery," announces Elsa, taking Spencer into her arms and patting her back firmly to help her stop coughing. Spencer tries not to cry, knowing that it just makes the cough worse, but it hurts and she can't help a few gasping sobs while Elsa helps the attack to pass.

When Spencer unscrews her eyes from the cringing, painful expression she feels her face moving into, she notices a look of real concern on Veronica's face. But just as Spencer registers it, it's gone.

"Well, she should be in bed, anyway," says Veronica, her voice gentler. "She's really not well enough to be up and about with that terrible cough."

"That, I agree with," says Elsa, and with a nimble movement, she picks Spencer up in her arms. With her legs around Elsa's waist and not enough strength at that exact moment to even lift her head from Elsa's shoulder, Spencer can only watch as her mother and Melissa look up at them, open-mouthed, while Elsa carries Spencer up the stairs to her room.

//~//

In the middle of the night, long after Elsa had gone home for the evening, Spencer wakes up with a coughing fit. She usually has one or two a night, now, since the prescription cough medicine has at least let her sleep more than an hour or so at a time. Trying to get her breathing back under control and gulping desperately from the bottle of water beside her bed, Spencer hopes that tonight she won't end up gagging and almost getting sick all over herself, like she had the first night that she'd been sick. Poor Emily, thinks Spencer wryly. She'd heard Emily had caught an abbreviated version of the flu after Spencer had gone home, but was ready to go back to school tomorrow. Though Spencer wasn't in the mood to go back, she did miss her friends.

The coughing slows down gradually, but Spencer can't help but start to whimper from the pain in her lungs. She needs another dose of her cough medicine, but she doesn't know where her mother or Elsa put it. Rubbing her eyes and trying to breathe normally, she knows she's losing the battle when she lets out a harsh sob and starts to cry. Fending for herself at night has never been her strong suit, and she's half-hoping someone will hear her, even if it's Melissa, so that she can settle down and get to sleep again.

But no one seems to be coming, and after a few moments, Spencer realizes that no one can likely hear her. She considers trying to go downstairs on her own. She's steady enough on her feet tonight - after a little nap just before dinner, Spencer managed to walk down the stairs by herself, though she had to rest once she got downstairs before heading to a chair in the kitchen and off the precious new couch. But it seems so hard, and her chest hurts so much. Her voice, always a little hoarse, is almost a croak with the cough, even as she tries to call out for her mother. "Mommy . . ."

Just when Spencer thinks she'll have to either go back to sleep, with a sopping wet diaper and sore, burning chest, or get up on her own, she hears her door push open and her mother appears, backlit by the hall light. Spencer sags onto her bed in relief. "Mommy," she whispers.

"Spence, what's wrong, honey?" Veronica comes over, her silk nightgown swishing against her ankles, and puts a cool hand on her daughter's forehead. It feels so good that Spencer holds it there for a few moments, listening to Veronica cluck over her.

"Oh, sweetie. You're running a little fever again, though it's lower than it's been."

Spencer whimpers at this, and then begins to cough again. Veronica helps her sit up and then pulls up Spencer's PJ shirt, gently rubbing Vicks onto her back from the small tin on Spencer's bedside table. Immediately, the powerful medicinal ointment starts to loosen the tight soreness in Spencer's chest. Veronica puts some onto Spencer's chest, too, and then walks into the bathroom to wash her hands and grab Spencer's cough medicine, which, Spencer learns, was in her medicine cabinet the entire time. Oh.

After a dose, Spencer is much more relaxed, the tears drying on her cheeks. Veronica rubs her belly soothingly, and then checks her diaper. "Oh, lovey. You're soaked. You should have said something earlier," she soothes, and Spencer smiles a little into the dark. If only her mother could be like this all the time.

After a quick change, Veronica turns Spencer's pillow over to the cool side and watches her daughter snuggle into it. "If you need me, you just call, okay? Don't suffer in here alone at night when you're so sick." She kisses Spencer's forehead. "Get some rest."

And Spencer turns over into her blissfully cool pillow, happy that for once, her mother was there for her.

//~//

A couple of days later, Spencer's almost fully better except for her cough - and her need for thick, full-time diapers. Veronica seems to be trying to be understanding, but her exasperation is evident at the breakfast table on the Monday morning Spencer's ready to go back to school.

"Now, you need to focus on retraining, honey," she says, her voice admonishing. "It's all well and good to wear full-time diapers at home when you're sick, but you're going to need to clear your stages at least to night-time diapers by the end of the school year. You know you have to in order to get into the science camp you wanted this summer."

The science camp in question is a UPenn-sponsored chemistry and biology workshop that's worth an actual credit to help Spencer graduate high school earlier. It's very important, and though it's a few months away, Spencer's tummy tightens with nervousness. She does know they won't let her in if she's in diapers still. They don't have the facilities or resources at the university to support students needing regular diaper changes.

She nods, trying to seem like she's taking it seriously, though she feels warm and safe in her thick diapers, without a care in the world but trying to do well in school, not trying to train herself not to wet her pants. She'd had another dirty diaper yesterday. Elsa had been the only one home - the family had gone out to buy Melissa a new laptop for a summer university course in London - but even understanding Elsa had told her that she couldn't let this happen anymore, not now that she was going back to school. Spencer had been embarrassed, and had actually begun to cry right in front of Elsa, half out of mortification, but Elsa had kissed and soothed and cuddled until Spencer felt better. 

Now, she gets up, her cough candies stowed safely in her backpack, and gets into the car with her mother, who's dropping her at school today. On the short ride over, Veronica says nothing, but she pats Spencer's padded bottom affectionately as her daughter exits the car, and Spencer smiles in response. Since the night of the coughing fit, her mother has been a little more understanding and affectionate.

Spencer spots Emily across the quad and breaks out into a wide, excited grin. They're both still a little pale and thin - Spencer having lost precious weight she didn't really have to lose - but Emily looks almost 100% better, with just a little exhaustion around her eyes. Spencer walks quickly up to her - running still being out of the question right now - and throws her arms around her friend. Emily hugs her back just as tightly, and as Spencer drops her arms, they brush over Emily's backside. A distinct crinkle is heard, and Spencer raises her eyes in confusion to Emily's.

"I'm in Pull-Ups for now," says Emily. "I'm not quite . . . back to normal. I still have a couple accidents a day." While that would usually cause Emily to blush and look away, embarrassed, Emily seems perfectly comfortable with it. Spencer supposes Mrs. Fields wrote the whole thing off as Emily being sick. And, well, it makes total sense. Spencer wishes she didn't feel so embarrassed about pooping her pants still.

"I'm in full diapers," she mutters. "I started having . . . worse accidents this past week." She doesn't tell Emily that a lot of them have been on purpose, that there's something comforting about hiding in a corner and letting it all go in privacy and warmth, even if it is messier and a bit embarrassing.

Emily simply nods. "Half the church teen group is back in full-time diapers now, too, my mom says. It was a nasty flu."

Across the courtyard, they see Aria's parents' van pull up into the teachers' parking lot and Aria clamber out, her usual crazy outfit standing out from the crowd. Today she's wearing a pair of striped black and pink leggings, a long black smock with pink and silver sparkly designs on it, and a bunch of random jewellery. As her mother, Ella Montgomery, gets out of the car to give Aria a hug goodbye, they quickly see Aria pull something out of her mouth and shove it into her purse. Ella gives Aria a long hug, and then pats her bottom, much as any mother would do with their diapered child. But Aria doesn't wear diapers anymore, does she?

Hanna has now joined them, and after greeting Spencer, they wait for Aria to come across the quad. But Aria doesn't seem to want to come. She eyes her friends uncertainly, then turns back to her mother. Ella tosses back her long dark hair and seems to be saying something reassuring to Aria, which doesn't seem to help. Aria's lower lip starts to tremble, and she turns back to her mother, throwing her arms around the teacher and burying her face in her shoulder.

Spencer is shocked. "Was Aria sick, too?" This behaviour is so weird. Hanna looks skeptical. She knows Aria better than any of them, and she shakes her head.

"Aria was one of the only ones who didn't get that flu you guys had. Something about her vitamin intake or something. She blathered on about it at lunch one day. Please don't ever make me listen to a lecture on naturopaths again."

"She seems a little . . . fragile," states Emily, her tone careful. "I hadn't realized she was having a hard time, I guess?"

Hanna's wide blue eyes turn onto Emily in confusion. "She's not. There's nothing wrong with her."

They watch as Ella, right there in the parking lot, checks Aria's diaper and shakes her head. "You need a change, sweetie," comes across the courtyard.

Hanna shrugs. "She's just wearing diapers again."


End file.
